The Last Lion of House Reyne
by joen1801
Summary: When Tywin Lannister crushed the Reyne-Tarbeck Rebellion everyone in the Kingdoms believed he ended two noble lines. But thanks to one unique infant, one Harrion Reyne called Harry by his parents, some survived.
1. Chapter 1

AN: So the winner of my poll was a HP/ASoIaF crossover set in the south.

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor A Song of Ice and Fire, they are the property of J.K Rowling and George R.R. Martin respectively. No profit is being made from this work.

* * *

The air in the deepest halls of House Castamere reeked of fear. Of the 300 or so men in the caves some were playing _cyvasse_ as way of ignoring their current situation, others sat along the wall sharpening their swords for a battle that would never come, but most sat along the wall staring off into nothing contemplating the end that was no doubt coming. The women among them cooked and fussed over the children, doing what they could to keep them from the reality of the situation. The day was drawing to a close so those few who could manage under the circumstances tried to find some rest.

The Red Lion of Castamere, Lord Roger Reyne, lay upon a bed still recovering from the wound he sustained during the Battle of Tarbeck Hall. The proud Lord of Castamere was usually an imposing sight. He was tall and lean, even in his forties his light brown hair had yet to grey, and his blue-green eyes held a confident glint. But now he lay upon a cot, barely clinging to life thanks to quarrel that hit him square in the back. Despite his injury, he sent a message to Tywin Lannister requesting single combat to settle the issue of House Reyne's little rebellion. _As though he could manage such a thing in his current state._ Lady Ellyn Tarbeck, the only daughter of House Reyne, died when Tywin Lannister crushed Tarbeck Hall. The last and least revered of the Reyne siblings, Reynard Reyne, paced not far from his brother's side.

Reynard stood half a head shorter than his older brother, and while he had skill with the sword and lance he certainly wasn't 'The Red Lion' though he was still better than most men. Even ten years his brother's junior, Reynard's dark hair had already begun to grey, a good deal of it coming in the recent months because of the stress heaped upon him. His eyes were a light blue, which he inherited from his mother.

As his blue eyes glanced toward his brother, Reynard couldn't help the anger that boiled up from somewhere deep down inside of him because of his two siblings. Their pride led to the downfall of their entire house. They thought themselves above the Lannisters, thought they could plot and manipulate because Tytos was a weak ruler who allowed their clearly belligerent actions. _But Tywin is not his father and now I can only hope that he will accept my surrender and show our family mercy._ Reynard knew it was wishful thinking. Tywin would likely look down with pride at the ruin of their house and maybe for the first time in the man's life, he would smile.

He wanted none of this, it was Roger who refused to pay their debts and it was Ellyn who took three of the Lannisters captive when her husband refused to do the same. Reynard looked away from his brother, threw his sister from his mind, and turned to two people far more important to him.

His wife, Lily, wasn't a noblewoman… she was a commoner, a blacksmith's daughter born in the lands owned by his family. Despite her lower station she was extremely intelligent and learned, her father having provided her with many books to sate her thirst for knowledge. Something he managed to do thanks to his own superior skill working the forge.

At six and twenty, she was a woman of middling height with a lithe figure and beautiful face. Her hair was a vivid red that contrasted wonderfully with her pale complexion. Her most distinguished feature was her eyes. They were a piercing, vibrant emerald green that put any member of House Lannister to shame and left Reynard wondering whether she was distantly related to the Lords of the West. Reynard thought it a blessing from the Seven that he was able to wed Lily two years ago.

His mother was an affectionate woman but died when he was five from a summer fever. On the other, his father focused so much on finding appropriate matches for his two favored children that he paid little attention to Reynard. After their father died during the Peake Uprising, Roger attempted to wed Reynard to advance the family position amidst other attempts to wed one of the younger Reynes to Genna Lannister; however, Tytos Lannister wed Genna to Emmon Frey instead of a Reyne, after which Roger no longer cared for Reynard's affairs, preferring to brood over the slight.

So thanks to a happy combination of an absent father and a self-centered brother, Reynard fortuitously managed to marry for love. _Though she would be far better off now had I never met her._ He approached his wife as she sang softly to a bundle in her arms. A shock of black hair the same shade of his own could be seen atop a tiny head. Quiet happy gurgling noises could be heard coming from the bundle as tiny, fat fists reached up to grasp at Lily's hanging hair. It only caused her to chuckle between the lines of the song.

Despite the mortal danger of their current situation, Reynard managed a small smile at the genuinely heartwarming sight. He wrapped his arm around Lily's waist and stepped up beside her to look down at their son. He had the same startling green eyes as his mother, eyes that went alight with recognition at the sight of his father.

Reynard brought his hand up and poked a finger at his son who promptly latched on with one of his tiny hands. "How is our little Harry doing?" Harry being short for Harrion, the baby boy was only eight months old and the youngest member of House Reyne. _And likely the last._ Looking at his adorable son staring at him while trying to pull his finger toward his open mouth, Reynard felt another surge of anger toward his two siblings. _My wife and my child are going to die for an offense I didn't give, and that Harry isn't near old enough to even begin understanding._

Lily looked to her husband with a small smile, "He is happy as ever Rey." She was the only person he allowed to call him by that name, "I don't think he has it in him to be anything less." They had both learned quite well over the past few months that their son was quite likely one of the easiest children in the world to handle. He cried rarely and slept through the night with ease.

"I wouldn't expect anything less," Reynard replied with a strained smile.

Lily had long since become adept at noticing when her husband was bothered, "You're worried." She stated bluntly.

He simply huffed at her, "Of course I'm worried. Tywin Lannister sits on our doorstep with thousands of men to our 300," Desperation entered his voice as he continued, "Our only hope of surviving this situation is that Tywin, a man known for being relentless and uncompromising, will accept my surrender and allow one of the members of our House to be held captive to ensure our good behavior." They both looked down to little Harrion and Lily ran her hand through his hair, "Roger is likely to die within the week, so the only person he could possibly take is…"

"Harry, I know." Lily finished for him softly as she brought her head closer to their son, "Still I would rather him at least have the opportunity to live a full life than KNOW that he is going to die."

Reynard looked to his brother sleeping fitfully not far away and his lips tightened into a thin line, "I would rather none of this ever happened, that we never even had to have this conversation. I wish I didn't have to hope that a man would accept my peace terms only so that I miss every moment of my son's childhood."

"But the second son rarely gets what he wants because he must always suffer the decision of his elder." Reynard finished bitterly.

"There is still a hope Rey," Lily whispered to him confidently. He appreciated her optimism but he had a feeling she only barely believed her own words. _False words spoken with conviction so that maybe at least one of us will believe the lie._ Still despite his skepticism, he gave her a smile; one that he hoped did something to allay her own fears.

Their conversation ended abruptly as a great crashing could be heard from above, further up in the many caverns, right near the entrance in fact. Reynard turned to Lily, a sad smile on his face, "I think we just received an answer." He kissed her lightly on the temple before leaving to see exactly what had been done.

The holdings of House Reyne appeared modest to the casual observer, only one tenth of their castle being above ground. Two stout towers and a curtain wall guarded the entrance into their many halls and galleries. At least until roughly ten minutes prior, two stout towers and a curtain wall guarded the many halls and galleries. Now those defenses were being bombarded by Lannister forces and quickly shattered under the assault. The area around the cave entrance collapsed as well and soon they were trapped within their own halls. Reynard could only look on with a sense of foreboding. They had enough food stored within to last a year, maybe longer with so few mouths to feed. But something told Reynard that Tywin wouldn't be allowing them to live that long.

He walked at a brisk pace back down through the halls and corridors that once served as his family's silver and gold mines. When he reentered the Great Hall, the most fortified of their many rooms, Lily looked to him immediately and made to stand in greeting but he just gave her a small shake of the head and she sat back down with a small frown.

Reynard approached his brother, whose labored, wheezing breaths could be heard clearly as he drew closer, "Roger," He said clearly to gain his ailing brother's attention whose eyes opened immediately. The Lord of Castamere looked over, pain evident on his refined features. Sweat dripped from his forehead. He looked sickly having long since turned a paler white than Reynard had ever seen him. Roger wore no shirt, only bandages to cover the wound on his chest.

"What is it little brother?" Roger whispered out between labored breaths, "Has Tywin accepted my challenge?" Despite his current condition, he managed to sound supremely confident that he could fight the Heir of Casterly Rock and survive.

"No," Reynard responded curtly, "he has accepted neither your challenge nor my offer of surrender. He has decided on a different course of action. He has collapsed our defenses and sealed us into our own halls."

"Coward," Roger spat out bitterly before going into a heavy coughing fit, "he knows he would falter against the Red Lion of Castamere."

Reynard laughed derisively at his brother's arrogance, "Had he accepted 'dear brother'," There was intense vitriol in the usual endearment, "you would have died before ever exiting our halls. You can't even stand, let alone raise your sword."

A sound somewhere between a cough and a laugh emanated from deep in the elder Reyne's throat, a small bit of blood seeped from his mouth as he looked to Reynard with a sneer, "I would much rather die in the attempt of meeting that fucker in the field than sit here and die."

"Well you will sit here and die along with what remains of our House and retainers." Reynard all but snarled, "Your stupidity has laid our House low, yours and Ellyn's."

"The Lannisters are weak, they don't deserve control of the West." Roger looked off, his voice becoming wistful, "We would have made better Lords."

"Maybe, though your hubris leads me to believe otherwise. You were never the sort of man to listen to other's council. I warned you what might happen if you refused Tywin's summons and here we are." Reynard responded evenly, "And if Tywin has proven anything, it is that the Lannisters are far from weak. He crushed you, like the upstart you were. And now here you sit with no maester to tend you and no hope of survival."

Roger took a deep breath and looked to his brother, a bit of wetness entering his eyes, "For what it is worth, I am sorry things have come to this; that you and your family will suffer for my decisions." Reynard wanted to forgive his brother if only because he was showing some actual remorse for his folly, but the image in his mind of his wife and child starving to death, emaciated and barely clinging to life a year from then sat fixed at the forefront of his mind.

Instead, Reynard glared down at his older brother, "I doubt your regret will bring me any comfort when I am forced to watch my family die slowly for your mistakes." With that he turned abruptly and left his brother to another coughing fit.

He went to Lily's side where she sat reading, something she did often when trying to distract herself. She noticed his approach and quickly shut the book, marking her place. He caught a quick glance of the title; it was _The Rogue Prince, or, the King's Brother_ by Archmaester Gyldayn regarding the life of Prince Daemon Targaryen. She placed the book down beside her and looked at him expectantly, "So, I take it things haven't gone as we hoped?"

Reynard shook his head slowly, "Lord Tywin just gave me what could only be described as a resounding refusal to any sort of surrender. He buried us in our own halls, and I believe he intends to make them our graves."

Lily frowned before grabbing his hand and drawing him toward an adjoining room where they and Harry slept, "Come on Rey, we can do nothing about this situation. Let's try and relax and have a good night's sleep." He allowed her to pull him along toward their chambers as she continued speaking, "I already laid Harry down for the night and he's sleeping quietly as usual."

When they reached their room they quickly stripped down until they were in only their small clothes and laid in their bed cuddled up to one another, Harry sleeping quietly in a crib on the other side of the room. They each enjoyed the comfort that came from the warmth of the other's skin. They reveled in the closeness and things quickly became more heated

It didn't take long before the room was filled with the quiet groans and whimpers of pleasure as the two lovers did what they could to forget the direness of their situation by embracing one another. When finally they reached their completion Lily was atop her husband. As she came down from her sexual high she splayed herself across his chest and listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

They stayed that way until he softened fully and fell from her tunnel, eliciting a small groan from Lily. She shifted slightly then so she was laying at his side though her head never moved from just above his heart. She brought a hand up to run through the sparse, sweat drenched hair upon his chest.

Reynard lay their humming contentedly for a brief moment with his wife. His eyes closed though sleep came nowhere near gripping him as he felt Lily's light touch upon his chest. Her quiet words cut through the silence, "Do you remember how we met?"

He chuckled as the memory came to the forefront of his mind, "How could I ever forget." He brought one of his hands up and started twirling one of her long, red strands of hair between his fingers, "It was three years ago now since I came to your father looking to have a sword made. You were sitting there with him, unbothered by the heat of the forge and reading one of your many books."

Lily chuckled, "I am extremely fortunate my father was such a skilled blacksmith otherwise I never would have been able to indulge my love of the written word," she turned so she could look Reynard in the eye, "You kept stealing glances at me when you thought I wasn't looking."

"I had met hundreds of women both noble and common, some of them were eye catching, some tried far too hard, thinking they could find themselves attached to the second wealthiest House in the West." He gave a fond smile, "You were the vision of beauty sitting there, strands of hair sticking to your head thanks to the heat. Your eyes with that inquisitive gleam as you took in every word at a lightening pace." He sighed, "And you wouldn't even spare me a single word."

"You weren't the first nobleman to step into my father's forge. I had met enough to know what to expect." She replied with a cheeky smirk, "You didn't exactly do a good job of proving yourself any different that first time I met you."

Reynard laughed, "I suppose that's the truth of it. I made the mistake of thinking you were some naïve thing who would see me and simply swoon because I was one of the Lions of Castamere." He smiled sheepishly, "It really wasn't one of my finer moments. But in my defense, it was the first time I actually made the attempt to woo a pretty woman. I had seen my brother's womanizing ways and wanted to be nothing like him."

"So your idea of wooing a pretty woman was talking incessantly about yourself despite the fact that the woman in question wanted nothing to do with you?" Lily asked that same smirk firmly affixed upon her lips.

"Words flowed from my mouth that day like water down a river, I had no control over what stupidity I might have uttered," He said a touch defensively.

"That is your story and you are going to stand by it I assume?" She chuckled lightly.

"Exactly," he kissed her temple, "I did get better though. Or at least I think I must have; otherwise, you wouldn't be lying in this bed with me right now."

"You got much better over time, which wasn't hard considering you had nowhere to go but up." She responded lightly, "But it must be said, never was there a man more intent on knowing the status of his requisition." There was a distinct bit of teasing in her voice. Reynard instinctively looked to the sword sitting near their bed. It was the same one that had been made by his good-father and allowed him to meet his Lily.

"It was my only excuse to come and see you," Reynard replied with a slight shrug of his shoulders, "I won't apologize for one moment of the time it allowed me to spend talking to you."

"Nor would I want you to, but I must admit I found you tiresome at first."

Reynard chuckled, "I can't really blame you. I had an immensely hard time behaving my age in your presence. And even though I am seven years your senior, and a lord for that matter, I always felt like I was trying to prove something."

"I noticed." Lily replied wryly.

"I never thought it would be as simple as just being myself around you." Reynard noted.

"Your mistake, love," She jabbed his chest lightly, "I'm glad you finally managed to stop acting like a fool. Though, I feel I may be insulting some fools."

"Be nice now," he replied indignantly.

"I never told you this," She started slowly, "but I was distraught at the idea of never seeing you again once my father finished your requisition. I thought you would simply forget about me despite the months spent talking about anything and everything."

"There was no need to worry about that," He soothed her, "I was properly enamored with you from the beginning, once you decided I was worth your time there was no way you were getting rid of me." He tore his eyes away from her for a moment, "At least not by my own will, it was quite disheartening when I learned my brother intended to marry me to Alys Arryn."

"It was far more than disheartening Reynard," She said firmly, "it was heartbreaking. In the year we knew each other, never once did your brother take an interest in your affairs. Then suddenly, you informed me that he wanted you to wed some woman from the Vale."

"You may have been better off had he succeeded in marrying me off. Had a Reyne been given Genna Lannister's hand as requested he would likely have followed through." Lily's jovial manner quickly turned to anger as she glared at her husband.

"Others take you Reynard Reyne! I wouldn't trade one moment of our time together for all the gold in Casterly Rock!" She said in her best attempt at a hushed yell, trying to keep from waking their son, "We might die tomorrow, next week, next month, or in a year, but death is always a possibility." Tears began to form at the corners of her eyes, "My only regret is that Harry will never have the opportunities in life he deserves." Reynard could do nothing but hug his wife closer to his chest and whisper quiet reassurances to her as she resisted the urge to sob. He held her until finally they were able to drift off to a fitful sleep.

(Scene Break)

An abrupt shove in the shoulder awoke Reynard from his sleep. He reacted immediately, unaffected by his state of dress and made to attack the offender only to come up short as he recognized the young face before him. It was his squire, Garrison Vikary, a boy of only five and ten who had taken up the position as his squire after a Tourney in Lannisport some four years ago. He cowered slightly from the blow he expected to come and had his face turned away to avoid looking at both Reynard and his wife's state of undress.

He spoke quietly and with obvious repentance for his action, "I am sorry my Lord, but it appears Lord Roger is not long for this world and he requests your presence."

Reynard covered himself quickly before turning to his squire. _There is nothing left for Roger to say to me that wasn't said earlier._ "Very well Garrison, I shall be there shortly." Reynard quickly dressed and made his way out to find his brother lain out across his bed. There were only a few people in the Hall, as it was early morning and few had risen.

Standing by his brother's side he could see just how dire the situation was now as someone removed the bandage from Roger's wound. The wound hadn't healed correctly, even slightly. Looking at it, Reynard found it hard to believe that the quarrel hadn't killed him instantaneously. _It only barely missed puncturing anything of vital importance._ But the wound was a sickly green and festering along the edges. It was readily apparent that the Lord of Castamere wasn't long for this world. It oozed a sickly yellowish fluid which only increased in flow as Roger coughed up a bit of blood.

"You wanted to see me." Reynard said simply, looking his brother over apathetically. He felt no attachment to the man in front of him, no fondness.

"You were right," Roger rasped out slowly, the last of his life being spent in the early hours of the morning, "I was a fool! Ellyn was a fool! And all our defiance has done is given the Lannisters even more prestige and power within their lands. Our family name will be used to warn others of what happens when you anger the Golden Lions of the West."

"No not the lions," Reynard replied quickly, "just one. Tytos could never have managed this, Tygett and Kevan couldn't have either. Only Tywin Lannister will be feared."

"You're wrong," He chuckled slightly, "How many times did you tell me that? How many times did I refuse to listen? Things would have been different had I not been prideful." His eyes took on a faraway, glassy look, "My everlasting life will be spent in one of the Seven Hells for what I have wrought here."

"You might be right brother. I'm not going to sit here and try to sooth your guilty conscience," Roger closed his eyes and made a pained grimace as though he took a physical blow, "If it is any consolation, I believe someday that Tywin Lannister shall be in one of those Hells just beside you." This brought a smile to the Red Lion's face.

"I never apologized for what I did when I found out of your wedding that woman…" Roger began only to be cut off by his brother.

"Her name is Lily, and I didn't care for your opinion then and I care less for your apologies now." It was the sorest subject between the two brothers. Reynard hadn't kept his wedding secret but it was not the extravagant affair so common to nobility and neither of his siblings attended. When he learned of the nuptials, Roger attempted to have the wedding nullified only after calling Lily little more than a whore. When both Lily's family and a septon were brought forth to confirm the validity of the marriage Roger could do little more than bemoan the missed opportunity to form an alliance through his brother.

Reynard spared his brother one last glance, "Goodbye Roger, sleep well." In the five minutes it took Reynard to reach his own quarters again the Red Lion of Castamere took his last rasping breath, tears of regret streaming down his face in rivulets before the end.

Opening the door, Reynard found Lily awake sitting in a chair in the room with Harry at her breast. She smiled at him as he entered and he honestly couldn't understand how she managed the gesture given everything happening, "I awoke to find you absent from my side. I assume something of a pressing nature took you." She prompted him as he came to sit by her side.

"In a matter of speaking," He leaned back in his own chair and closed his eyes, "My brother is dead. He wished to see me before he passed."

"Oh," Lily said emotionlessly, "What did he have to say?"

"Nothing of any import Lily," Reynard knew she disliked his brother strongly. _Though that is putting it lightly, she despised him for what he tried to do between trying to force me to marry another and then trying to force us apart._ "He wished only to inform me that he regretted the decisions that led to our current situation and apologize for his reaction to our marriage." Her nostrils flared dangerously, "I would hear nothing of it and left before he could ply me with any empty words."

"Good," Lily said harshly, "he deserved nothing from you, least of all forgiveness." A frown marred her beautiful face. Reynard was having none of that so he gripped her chin lightly and turned her head to look at him.

"I completely agree with you." He kissed her lips with but a feather light touch. She smiled as he pulled away and he was glad he managed to bring that look to her face. "Now, why are you up so early?"

Lily's brow furrowed, "It was the strangest thing Rey. It must have been just after you left, maybe a little later but he started wailing loudly and incessantly. I only just managed to calm him." They both looked to their usually peaceful son with a hint of concern. Whatever prompted his sudden discomfort passed but neither parent was particularly happy not knowing the reason. They sat together like that as a family for a short while longer before Lily stood to go and prepare their morning meal, leaving Reynard to look after their son.

Reynard watched her go and couldn't help but admire her. He very much doubted there was another noblewoman in all of Westeros like her. _Well southern noblewomen at least, they say some of the northern ladies are tougher than the men and do just as much work._

Every day Lily would go down to the kitchens and help prepare their morning meal herself. The few serving women who remained at Castamere initially tried to stop her but she would hear nothing of it; instead, she helped them bake the breads, cook the meats and fry the eggs. She developed her own rapport with the servants there. He honestly believed they only still performed their previous duties because she took the time to work with them.

When Lily returned a half an hour later, she carried two plates of food with small but suitable portions on them. There was a rasher of bacon on each, with fried eggs, freshly cut fruit, and still-warm-from-the-oven bread. They sat down and ate together, Harry happily bouncing on his father's knee and gurgling at his mother across from him. _How many more mornings like this will we be allowed before the end?_

* * *

Outside standing upon a hill that overlooked the halls of House Reyne, Tywin Lannister, a young man of only nine and ten, watched as the many men under his command worked tirelessly digging a trench to divert the local river to Castamere. Behind him, rippling lightly in the wind stood his command tent. Tywin himself stood taller than most men, his build was slender, but his shoulders were broad. His hair was the spun gold common of his family, and his eyes the same green though interspersed with golden flecks. He wore a deep crimson armor, highlighted with gold and a cloth-of-gold cape. He made for quite the imposing sight, one he meant to make known throughout the Seven Kingdoms.

Despite his recent successes, he was not smiling. In Tywin's mind this was merely the long overdue reminder that House Lannister ruled the Westerlands. His father wanted far too badly to please his many vassals when only strength would force them into submission, not placating them at every turn.

As such, Tywin never asked his father's permission in his current undertaking. He demanded the Reynes and Tarbecks present themselves at the Rock knowing full well they would refuse. He already had an army assembled, waiting to go to Tarbeck Hall and destroy it. He smiled then watching as Tarbeck Hall fell upon the conniving bitch Ellyn Reyne. It was a rare thing, seeing him smile; something that only usually happened when he was alone with his beloved Joanna. He hoped one day that his cousin would become his wife.

With a slight shake of his head, minute enough so that no one noticed he had briefly lost focus, Tywin brought his attention back to the task at hand. Things were nearly done, and the last remnants of House Reyne would be nothing more than a memory. _A footnote used as warning to those who consider crossing me in future._ Had it not been for his intention to make an example of the two upstart houses, Tywin would have accepted Reynard Reyne's proposed surrender. The Lion of Lannister was very much aware that Ser Reynard had a young son who would have served as the perfect ward. _But a message needs to be sent and any sort of leniency will show only weakness and the last thing our other vassals need to see is further weakness._

A voice from just behind Tywin pulled him from his musings, "I still believe you should have requested father's permission in this endeavor." Tywin turned his head slightly to see who stood just behind him. Tygett, his brother of one and ten, was tall for his age and strong; already having fought and proved himself in the War of the Ninepenny Kings. As such, Tywin allowed his younger brother to accompany him on his 'war' against the rebel lords.

"Father will give but a novel protest to my actions in private before slinking back to his quarters and the whore who warms his bed." Tywin didn't hate his father but he certainly didn't respect the man. _No man worthy of respect would allow his vassals to laugh at him in their cups. 'Toothless Lions' they called us, well I have proven our teeth are sharp and our claws long._ It was watching lesser lords jest in the very halls of Casterly Rock that turned Tywin into a hard young man; he would drag the Lannister name back to its rightful place above all others.

"You are probably right brother, but could you not have browbeaten him into accepting your proposed actions before calling an army?" Tywin allowed his brother's questions only because this would serve as a learning experience for the younger Lannister.

"I did not trust father to do what was necessary. He certainly hasn't in the past." Tywin scowled, "He had no problem returning Walderran Tarbeck **unharmed,** after Ellyn thought to take three of **our** House captive. I would not allow him to make us look weak yet again."

"I very much doubt that will ever be a problem again." Spoke up another voice. The eldest of his younger brothers, Kevan, stood there shoulder to shoulder with Tygett.

"That was the intention," Tywin quipped as he turned fully to look at the pair. "Now, what news?"

"Our men have surveyed the entirety of the area around the former mines and have found no means of secret escape." Kevan informed him promptly.

"Foolish," quipped Tywin, "they thought themselves untouchable in their deep caves and now they shall serve as their watery tombs." Tywin started walking closer to the trench, his siblings following in his wake.

"I take it things are nearly complete then?"

"They are Tywin," Kevan respected his brother and recognized his superiority. As such, he followed willingly any command he gave. Even now, in their youth, it was obvious both Tygett and Gerion would try to remove themselves from their eldest brother's shadow. Kevan saw now reason behind such an action, "We need only break the wall separating the river from the trench and it will be done."

Tywin didn't smile, though there was a distinct note of satisfaction in his voice as he turned to look Kevan in the eye, "See it done then." Kevan nodded stiffly and immediately started walking at a brisk pace toward his horse.

The men still in the trench quickly climbed out in lieu of the news that it was about to be filled with rushing water. Tywin stood on the very edge of the trench and waited. He knew it was coming before it actually arrived as his many men gave a cry of victory as the waters passed them by until it reached him where he stood on the hill above Castamere. It came slowly at first, working its way down the hill and into the halls of House Reyne below. But it just kept on growing and gaining until the entire contents of the river was pouring down and filling every crack and crevice of the hill beyond. Tywin very nearly smiled again then, but not quite.

* * *

No one within Castamere even noticed the danger at first. The water found a way in as it always does, seeping slowly at first into the caves and halls. It flowed, from room to room just a thin layer of water at first that barely made a splash as one stepped. But then as the minutes passed it finally reached the Great Hall deep within the hill and people started to take notice. All of the nearly 400 people surged toward the now collapsed gates into their underground fortress and stared in horror at what they saw.

Water leaked from each little hole in the broken surface of the barrier, wetting the floor. Some of the men moved forward only to slip on the slick stones. They righted themselves quickly and tried to plug up what they could of the seepage but they only made it worse. One of the men shifted a rock only to have a deluge of water begin pouring in. The rush of water pushed those who were trying to help the situation back and filled the first chamber with water. Everyone stepped back in a panic and made their way back from whence they came, barring every door and closing every passage in hopes to stem the coming flood. Some looked to Reynard for command, but he merely helped the others, giving no orders as they made their way back to what would amount to their final resting place. _Our watery grave._

When they reached the Great Hall, everyone did what they could to pull their food stores into the room, in the hopes they might survive the coming waters. _Futility at its finest._ Once as much food as could be managed was recovered, the men barricaded the doors sealing every crack and crevice they could find. Reynard found Lily in the throng of people staring on, her wide green eyes showing the unwanted realization of what was coming. She held Harry tightly to her chest, his head wresting squarely in the crook of her neck. Reynard wrapped an arm around her shoulder and guided her away from the door and toward the steps leading up to the dais where Roger died earlier that morning. They sat down together.

Reynard looked around as the noise in the room continued to rise as the water continued to seep underneath the door despite the men's best efforts. The few women in the room were openly crying, holding their children closely for what would likely be the final time. Men tried fruitlessly to stem the tide, some saw that their efforts were wasted and dropped dejectedly where they stood; others found their families so that they might spend their last few moments together.

Reynard let tears flow freely as he felt the cold lick of the water at his ankles. He leaned into Lily and brought his lips to her temple before burying his head in her long hair. He brought his mouth close to her ear, "I am sorry, so very sorry I couldn't save you from this fate. I love you and I would have given up my life a thousand times over to see you and Harry safe."

She turned her head so they were facing and kissed him gently on the lips, "I know and I love you, Reynard." They stared at each other for just a brief moment, the water seeping up to just below their knees where they sat. They were interrupted by their son giggling happily as he slapped his hand in the water around them. Neither of them could help it, they laughed. They were about to die, in an absolutely horrible manner, their bodies never to see the light of day again but their son managed to bring one last smile to their faces.

They sat and watched as he played happily in the water, Lily keeping his tiny head above water. They each held watery smiles for their son that would never have the opportunity to experience the world as he gurgled happily in his last moments.

The water started pouring in faster, the barricades they had put in place having broken down from the tremendous tide. Reynard found them something they could float on easily, as did nearly everyone else in the room. They rose ever closer to the ceiling, the oxygen in the room becoming scarce causing some to become lightheaded and even pass out. Reynard couldn't help but feel they might be the lucky ones. _I imagine that felt a great deal like falling asleep, probably far better than drowning to death._

Their heads were very nearly scraping the high ceiling of the Great Hall. All those around, whether treading water or floating on a piece of furniture, accepted their fate. This isn't to say there weren't tears as you would be hard pressed to find a dry eye but there was no wailing, no screaming save from the youngest of the children among them.

Except Harry of course, he stopped his playing but instead of crying he looked around at the chaos in fascination. He started grasping out for his parents, seemingly sensing their fear as he started to whine softly. They soothed him lightly, doing what they could to keep him calm. Then suddenly he just stopped any fussing.

The feeling was unlike anything Reynard ever felt before… squeezing, a nearly unbearable squeezing and just a never ending nothingness at all sides. _This must be what death feels like._ But then just as suddenly as they came, the sensations disappeared. The sound of water crashing into the soft ground reached his ears immediately, followed closely by a soft whisper of wind. The warm midday air of summer touched his sodden clothes. And the sun, something he hadn't properly felt in days, warmed his skin.

The abrupt travel was disorienting for everyone involved, and Harry began to cry from the pressure. Lily and Reynard were no better taking a long moment to simply stand there and regain their bearings.

When finally he opened his eyes some three minutes later, Reynard found they were standing atop one of the many hills of the Westerlands, not far from the village where Lily grew up. They were some ten miles away from Castamere. From their spot atop the hill, they could see the barest hint of the Lannister army in the distance.

One word escaped his mouth as he stared in awe toward the distance, "How?" He finally looked to his wife, only to find that she too was looking around dumbfounded at their situation.

She shook her head slowly even as she subconsciously rocked Harry in her arms, "I don't know Rey, truly, but somehow we've escaped." She looked out into the distance, "But, the others aren't so lucky."

Reynard looked on with a grimace, "No, and everyone will believe that House Reyne has ended. Should any see my face in the Westerlands we will be put to the sword. But we do have some friends elsewhere in the Kingdoms." Reynard was thinking quickly, trying to formulate some sort of plan given the abrupt change in their situation.

Lily nodded, "As much as it pains me to say it, we certainly can't stay here. We should go to my home, I have a store of gold in my old room at my parent's home; enough to let us travel to one of the other Kingdoms or even Essos if we wish."

Reynard reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bag of gold, maybe twenty dragons total but more than enough to let them travel, "I would rather we not risk your family's safety if we can manage it Lily."

She nodded stiffly and then suddenly broke down crying. He hugged her tightly to his side and whispered soothingly in her ear but she just shook her head, "All those lives snuffed out, but I can't help feel some sense of relief." Reynard could relate and he could also understand the grief that feeling was likely inspiring inside of her.

Reynard gently made her look him in the eye, "I can't explain why this happened or how for that matter, but we are alive. Harry is alive. We would be doing ourselves, and everyone who perished in those halls an injustice if we didn't try to live."

Lily held her chin a little higher and a glint he loved dearly entered her eyes, "You're right, but it won't stop me from mourning their deaths. I became friends with many of the people in your household and I won't forget them.

"Nor will I," He responded with a sad smile. He looked to their soaked clothing, "First thing we need to do is find ourselves some dry clothing. From there we can decide where we will go." He was glad he had his sword on his hip. It gave him some small sense of security as they started this new, second life of sorts.

As they turned away from the Lannister armies and started making their way down the opposite side of the hill toward the nearby village in the distance, Reynard couldn't help the feeling somewhere in the back of his mind that it had been his infant son that somehow managed to save them from their deaths. _But that is entirely impossible. The very idea of anyone, let alone an infant, moving people such a distance so quickly is unfathomable._ He shook his head of the absurd thought and took Lily's free hand as she bounced a once again happy Harry on her hip.

* * *

AN: So there is the first chapter to my new fic. For those of you who read TDOMCM, don't worry this doesn't mean I have any intention of finishing that anytime soon. This is going to be a much different fic than TDOMCM as it won't be focused on empire building, it is set in an earlier era and Harry isn't coming into the world as an adult. I haven't decided on a pairing yet if you are concerned with that.

Regarding this first chapter, I am aware that Reynard Reyne borrowed from Tytos Lannister and refused to pay it back in canon just like his brother Roger. There is also no mention of him being wed in the books, obviously I have changed these two things.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Hey everybody thank you for the reviews as always. If I didn't get back to a specific question, I either missed it (which I apologize for) or it will be answered sometime in the future.

Alucard: At this time Varys is still a spymaster in Pentos, he doesn't come to Westeros until later in the Mad King' reign

coldblue: For all of these questions, you're just going to have to wait and see :)

Dartboard: Lily and Reynard don't hate Tywin, though they don't like him either. Reynard largely blames his brother and sister. Plus, he is far more concerned with keeping his family safe than any sort of vengeance.

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor A Song of Ice and Fire, they are the property of J.K Rowling and George R.R. Martin respectively. No profit is being made from this work.

* * *

Lily looked down upon the fighting yard from atop the Palestone Sword; she need only walk to the other side of the room to view the vast expanse of the sea around Starfall. She found it hard to believe seven years had passed since she and her family were forced to leave their home for fear of what might happen should their survival have been discovered. They had only been in Dorne for six months and their road to the southernmost kingdom hadn't been an easy one.

They had been forced to find their way out of the Westerlands without use of any of the main roads. There were few in the kingdom that wouldn't recognize Reynard's face and immediately jump at the opportunity to win favor with Tywin. So they made their way through the hills of the West, almost entirely on foot to keep from notice among the small folk. The only purchase they made was when Lily went into a small town and paid three stags for a hunting bow and quiver full of arrows. The acquisition would prove to be invaluable to their well-being over the years.

They took refuge in the ruins of Tarbeck Hall for nearly three months, as game in the forest just south of there was plentiful enough to survive on easily. They avoided anyone headed to Lannisport to the north and the Crakehall men to the south. Reynard searched the ruins of the broken down castle stone by stone until he found the body of his younger sister, her two daughters and her son.

Lily would always remember the way he looked at her that day. There was a sorrow in his eyes, born not of grief for the woman Ellyn became, but for the little girl she once was as he told her, "I have no love lost for my sister but she was my blood… she deserves a proper burial," He had looked to his nieces' and nephew's crushed and bloodied bodies, "They fell victim to their mother's machinations, just as we nearly did to my brother's. I will not allow their bodies to rot in this place." She had helped him dig their graves that night while the other tended to Harry.

They were forced to leave Tarbeck when three men from Crakehall came to search the ruins. They heard Harry as Lily was playing with him and came to investigate. Lily wasn't the average southern lady and carried a knife on her person at all times. She stabbed one of the men in the throat before another knocked her to the ground. Her pained yell caused Harry to begin crying. They were fortunate enough that Reynard was nearby and arrived to dispense the other two Crakehall men. _There was something strange in that though. I'll never understand why the one who struck me seemed to stumble back against nothing._

They left Tarbeck the next morning so they would be well away before the Crakehall's sent other's to search out their missing men.

From Tarbeck they made their way further south into the Reach. They stayed for a time at a tavern near Old Oak, making use of the gold Reynard had to stay there comfortable for over two months. Reynard had never had any acquaintance with the Oakhearts so hadn't been concerned with the prospect of being discovered there.

It was while in Old Oak that they learned of Tywin's appointment as Hand of the King to the recently ascended King Aerys II. It was that news that caused them to argue persistently for nearly two months over where they ought to go from Old Oak. They didn't have the coin to remain in Old Oak indefinitely and neither of the pair was comfortable being so close to the Westerlands for long. Lily wanted to go to Highgarden so they might speak with Olenna Tyrell.

Lily met the older woman at one of the Tourney's held at Lannisport prior to the Reyne Rebellion. The two had developed a friendship, something Lily was unable to do with many of the other noblewoman as they looked down upon her low birth. Olenna while haughty at times and highly opinionated, had no qualms about talking with Lily at the tourney or the feast that followed. And it was in those conversations that the daughter of a blacksmith came to impress the Lady of Highgarden.

While Lily wanted to go to Highgarden and at the very least gain her highly intelligent friend's opinion on the matter, Reynard thought it best to travel to Oldtown and find a boat headed to Essos. It hadn't been a pleasant time in their marriage. She could still remember the worst of the arguments vividly.

"You are the daughter of a blacksmith Lily!" Reynard screamed at her in their small room of the _Golden Acorn Inn_ just outside of Old Oak, forgetting their sleeping son nearby, "And as such you clearly don't understand how our arrival in Highgarden would be received. She will see our presence as nothing more than opportunity to benefit House Tyrell."

Lily scowled at her husband, "I may be the daughter of a blacksmith," she spat back, "but I am far from naïve." She kept her voice far quieter than her husband's but that didn't take away from the anger behind the words. "I don't trust easily, but the woman is shrewd and someone whose counsel I think would benefit us greatly."

"Exactly," Reynard gesticulated with his hands violently, "She is an extremely shrewd woman and she is far more likely to sell us out to Tywin than to help a family bereft of influence, lands or anything of any discernable value." His voice quieted significantly, "What would she have to gain from helping us instead of running to Tywin Lannister, Hand of the King and future Warden of the West?"

Lily shook her head, "Olenna has no love for the Lannisters, Rey. She as much as told me so at the Tourney when I met her. Nor does she care for the Targaryens for that matter; she did do everything in her power to insure her wedding to Daeron Targaryen didn't happen after all."

"I still believe she would sell us to the Lannisters in a heartbeat if it meant her family would prosper." He sighed, "And I refuse to put our son in that sort of danger."

Lily stared at him blankly for a long moment, "Then don't, I will go into Highgarden disguised to the best of my abilities and speak with Olenna myself. You can hide with Harry inside the city."

"I don't want you in that sort of danger either," The exasperation was clear in his tone, "The Seven help me woman, has all sense left your head!?"

Lily glared at him, "As you said Reynard," The last time she had addressed him with such disdain was upon their first meeting, "I am only the daughter of a blacksmith, of no real importance to Olenna and certainly of no importance to Tywin."

"You refuse to see reason in this don't you?" His own anger started to bubble to the surface again.

"I am being perfectly reasonable. This plan will put neither you nor Harry in danger." She turned away from him thinking the conversation over but his next statement pulled her back.

"Perhaps I ought to take Harry and go to Essos while you attend to this fool's errand. Should Olenna prove remotely trustworthy as you believe, you can join us there when you have found her unable to provide you with anything but false promises." His voice held a small threat in it.

As she turned, Lily's emerald eyes held no warmth and her lips were a thin line, "You will do no such thing." Her voice was firm and hard, "He is my son Lord Reyne," his title dripped with venom, "just as he is yours, and he will not be taken from me." Reynard seemed to realize just how much what he said had hurt her and his face fell. He averted his eyes from her hard gaze and nodded his head sheepishly. He didn't sleep in her bed that night, nor the night after. They barely spoke in the three days before they departed for Highgarden still upon foot for the time being, not wanting to waste coin on horses at the time.

It took them six weeks to reach Highgarden, during which time she and Reynard started working past their disagreement; though, he still wasn't fully comfortable with what she wished to do. There were no major towns between Old Oak and Highgarden along the Ocean Road. As a result, they spent many nights sleeping in the hedges.

In one of the small villages along the road they learned there was a small group of bandits harassing travelers along the road. Reynard convinced her it would be worth his time to dispatch 'the bastards'. The group was comprised of only five men, none of which were particularly impressive in regards to fighting, preying only on the unsuspecting. They holed themselves in a cave along the coast near the Ocean Road. Reynard killed them all, gathered the coin they acquired in their unlawful endeavors and most importantly took two of their horses so they might travel faster.

When they arrived in Highgarden, they paid for a room in the city. It was owned by a kind old woman named Lynore, who gave them a good rate because they were a young couple with a baby. It was at that point that Lily's plan went into play. She knew that it would be unwise to simply try and walk into Highgarden, and try to get a meeting with Olenna. _Not that it would have been particularly easy to get an audience with her to begin with, but still._

Instead Lily took up a position as a serving wench in Highgarden. _It was fortuitous that there was a position open at the time_. She felt dirty when she used her womanly wiles to convince the maester of the castle she was the best candidate for the position. It didn't require her to do anything of a particularly unsavory nature, _but I did give the man quite the view down my dress by leaning just a little bit more than was perfectly necessary when speaking with him._ She told Reynard expecting him to be upset with her but he had merely laughed and said quite happily, "I imagine it was one of the best moments of the man's life." She was happy to know their disagreement was entirely behind them at that point and that he trusted her to do the right thing. _As well he should, I would never do anything to dishonor him or myself for that matter._

It took over a month before an opportunity to approach Olenna provided itself. Over that time, Lily consciously did what she could to ensure she wasn't noticed by the men of Highgarden. She knew she was a beautiful young woman; otherwise, she wouldn't have caught the eye of a young lord. _Of course there is much more to me than my looks, something that Reynard came to appreciate rather quickly._ She made herself look as plain as she possibly could in order to avoid any advances from the nobleman, particularly Garth 'the Gross' Tyrell who the other serving girls warned her would likely try to take advantage of his position given the opportunity.

When it finally happened Lily was instructed to deliver an afternoon meal to Olenna's private quarters. Bethany, a plump woman of sixty years, with grey hair and lines upon her face oversaw the many serving girls of Highgarden. She had turned to Lily and instructed her sternly, "The Lady Olenna requested her afternoon meal be brought to her in her solar. She isn't particularly fond of any bumbling about, so do your best not to irritate her."

Lily just nodded and collected a tray with sweet meats, various fruits, lemon cakes, and honeyed wine. While she had never been to Olenna's personal quarters before that moment, she knew where they were and quickly found the door. She knocked firmly and was answered with the call of 'Enter' on the other side.

She did so quickly to find Olenna sitting in the room with three of her attendants nearby. Olenna was a pretty woman, though small in stature. Her hair was a light brown, and she had deep brown eyes. She was neither thin nor plump an achievement considering she had given birth to three children in just six years.

The room itself smelled of flowers most distinct of which was a rose, a common occurrence in Highgarden. _Well I suppose it was better that it smelled of flowers when they say the capital smells almost constantly of shit._ As Lily entered said room the ladies talk carried over to her, "It amazes me that Garth hasn't fathered a dozen bastards by now. The man might be the image of corpulence but he has certainly stuck his cock in enough unfortunate common girls."

Her attendants tittered as they knit in what Lilly considered a truly obnoxious manner; if the slight scowl that crossed her face was any indication, Olenna agreed. It was at this point Lily stepped forward and placed the meal upon the table. The older woman looked at her absently at first but her head snapped up to regard her more carefully as she reached for a strawberry, "What is your name girl?" Olenna asked calmly though with a spark of recognition in her gaze.

"Lily, milady." She responded with a quick look into Olenna's eyes. If she was surprised she didn't show it. Instead she looked to the other women in the room.

"I would like to dine alone," Olenna said firmly. The other women quickly stood, collected the various things they were knitting, and left the room. The entire time Olenna regarded Lily through suspicious eyes, "Tell me are these strawberries freshly picked?"

Lily nodded just as the door closed behind the last woman, "Yes milady, they were picked just this morning as far as I know."

"You can stop pretending now dear," Olenna gestured to the chair across from her, "we both know you are far from a common serving girl and speaking as such must offend your tongue."

Lily smirked at the woman's candor, "Very well Lady Olenna, it is good to see you once again."

"I would say the same," Olenna offered her a lemon cake, which she took with a small nod, "but it is rare that one sees someone come back from the dead. I would have thought you but a pale imitation of the woman I once knew but there is no one on this earth I have yet met with eyes such as yours."

"My survival and that of my family was… unexpected. We should have died with everyone else in Castemere but by some miracle we managed to survive." Lily was reluctant to speak of the exact circumstances of their escape.

"Miracle you say?" Lily nodded, "And you won't divulge any more than that to me?" She shook her head slowly.

"It was quite a trying experience and something that I don't remotely understand. Were I to tell you, you would likely think me mad." There was a finality in her tone that Olenna clearly picked up on.

"I shan't press you then," she took a sip of the honeyed wine in front of her, her elegant fingers playing across the rim of the goblet as she eyed Lily, "I must wonder why you are working as a serving girl in Highgarden though?"

"I wished to discuss my current situation, and that of my family, with you. It seemed the safest way to get the opportunity." Lily admitted readily.

Olenna sighed, "I like you Lily, respect you even considering your intelligence, despite your low birth," Unlike many nobles, Olenna did not say it disdainfully but as a simple fact, "but I am saddened to tell you that I can not help you. Tywin Lannister is a powerful and feared man; should House Tyrell help you and he learn of it, it could very well spell doom for us." She gave Lily a sympathetic look, "I will not hand you over to the man, but I am far from willing to risk men of the Reach in the name of House Reyne."

Lily raised her hand, "You misunderstand me Olenna. I don't expect House Tyrell to openly offer us sanctuary nor side with us against Tywin. I love Reynard but what House Reyne did was foolish and they suffered accordingly." Olenna gestured for her to continue, "You are one of the most intelligent women I know, I simply hoped you might offer some advice about how we might best live our lives without constantly needing to look over our shoulders for a threat."

"I appreciate the complement Lily, yet I have met few noblewomen half so wise for their years as you. I would think you perfectly capable of thinking up some way for your family to remain safe."

Lily chuckled, "I have plenty of ideas Olenna, but no inclination which would be the best. Reynard wishes to board a ship and sail to Essos but I am reluctant to leave my homeland."

Olenna shrugged, "Your husband's plan is not a bad one; he never did strike me as particularly oafish… so that really doesn't surprise me." They shared a brief smile before she continued, "You may be reluctant to cross the Narrow Sea but you are already far from your home. Reynard could easily find work as a sellsword and allow you to live comfortably as such." She paused a moment, "Still I see your point, I am quite far from the Arbor yet I would still much rather remain in the Kingdoms than flee to the Free Cities were I in your situation."

"Then what would you recommend?" Lily took a sip of wine herself and leaned forward in her seat.

"Do you have any issue with your current situation?" She prompted.

"None at all," Lily popped a grape into her mouth as Olenna continued to think. While Lily might not care for being a serving wench, it made her enough money to ensure that their family remained safe with a roof over their heads and Highgarden was a pleasant enough place to live.

"And Reynard has he found any sort of work in the city?" At this Lily responded with a negative. Reynard had spent the month since their arrival attending to Harry most days. He was restless being cooped up in their small home all day. "Hmmm, we will fix that straight away then. Right after we do something to change his appearance."

"You think we ought to remain in Highgarden then?" Lily asked quickly.

"For a time at least, yes," Olenna started, "It would be unwise for you to stay here too long lest Tywin learn of it but there is no reason as of now to leave here. And as it shall be only me that is involved, House Tyrell shall not be put at risk." She seemed pleased with this turn of events.

Olenna set her goblet down, "My good-brother, Moryn, is currently serving as commander of Highgarden's City Watch; I will arrange for Reynard to take up a position among their ranks." She graced Lily with a small smile, "He will do so at nights of course so someone can remain with your young Harrion during the day."

Lily smiled graciously before it fell from her face, "How long do you think we might remain here before having to move on?"

"Lily, while you should have a plan for such an eventuality you cannot worry yourself about such things or you will go mad. It could be a month, a year, or a decade." Olenna stood and Lily did the same, "I must admit I shall be glad for your company however long it happens to be," she snorted in a very unladylike fashion, "Did you hear the way those women tittered at what was merely a simple fact." They ate the afternoon meal together speaking of their lives since last they met before Lily left to attend to her duties.

Lily surprised Reynard that night with the news. She forced herself to resist the urge to point out just how wrong he had been about Olenna. They celebrated accordingly that night, and the next morning Reynard dyed his hair light blond which served to lighten his eye color further to the point of looking almost grey. While anyone who knew him well might still recognize him, no one in Highgarden was likely to.

So it was by that way that they came to spend the next four years in Highgarden, Lily as serving wench in the castle and Reynard as a member of the City Watch. Lily benefitted from her friendship with Olenna as she was allowed to peruse the library of Highgarden when she had the opportunity, something she very much enjoyed. Meanwhile, Reynard enjoyed getting to actually use his sword on occasion when something unseemly would happen in the city.

Lily watched as Olenna's children grew in the castle, while Harry grew in their little home. Mace, Olenna's oldest seemed quite a self-important young man. At the age of ten he was sent to squire with the Hightowers in Oldtown. Olenna admitted to Lily she would much prefer he remain at Highgarden so she might have the opportunity to slap some of the pomposity from his young head. Olenna's two daughters, Janna and Mina, were both sweet young things who always commented how much they loved Lily's vivid red hair when they saw her.

While the Tyrell children were doted upon hand and foot, Harry remained at home most days either with Reynard or with the old woman who owned their home. She adored children and would watch them for her tenants should something else require their attention.

From everything Lily observed of her son, he was a perfectly happy child who got along well with the other small children near their home. Though, during this time there was more than one story provided to her by Lynore of strange occurrences taking place. There was one instance when Harry was three when he wished to play with a small carved horse that one of the other children had with them. The old woman turned her back for but a moment when suddenly it was in Harry's tiny grip on the other side of the room. It appeared as though he had never moved a muscle. Then there was the event when he was four when a tray of tarts Lynore bought from the baker for the children went missing. When the children were questioned about this they claimed that Harry had somehow obtained them and given them to each of the children. The only problem was it should have been impossible for him to reach the treats.

For a time, Reynard and Lilly thought they would be adding to their family as she fell pregnant after their first six months in the city… but Lily lost the child. The thought of it still turned her stomach. _All that blood._ For months afterward Lily cried herself to sleep, holding Harry close to her chest to remind her how blessed she still was not only to be alive but have her son. Reynard would stay up with her through her tears and her sobs, and the whole ordeal served to bring them closer together in the end. When Olenna had her maester examine her after the loss, he feared the miscarriage damaged her body and that she may not be able to carry another child safely again.

Still they pushed through and came to be contented with their life in Highgarden as they loved one another deeply. When finally they were forced to depart Highgarden it wasn't for fear of Tywin's shadow, it was instead the actions of Garth Tyrell. The castellan of the castle took a keen interest in Lily six months before their departure. He would corner her in the halls whenever the opportunity presented itself and she was forced to weather his advances while firmly informing him she was happily married and had no intention of betraying her husband. She expected the odious, and oft times flatulent, man to leave her and her family alone, but her expectations proved incorrect.

He instead found out about Reynard and where he worked through his brother Moryn. He somehow coerced his younger brother to give Reynard a particularly dangerous assignment. He was to root a gang of notorious cutpurses in the city. This usually wouldn't be overly difficult had the entire watch been put to the task, but he was to do this by himself.

Her husband embraced the challenge and three months later many of the people who were a part of the gang were in the dungeons of Highgarden. Then one night Reynard didn't come home leaving her terribly worried. _I didn't sleep a single moment that night._

Apparently the group learned that it was one particular guard jailing their members and did their damnedest to see him removed as an obstacle. They stabbed him three times: once in the leg, another in the shoulder, and the last in the back dangerously close to his spine. Lily barely slept for a month because of the worry his condition caused her; the only thing that gave her any relief was Olenna commanding the maester to tend to his injuries.

With Reynard's injuries came even more unwelcome advances from Garth. He tried to convince her to leave Reynard in favor of him, for he could give her a life of wealth and luxury. She refused his advances firmly and frequently at which point he threatened her position within the castle. Lily refused to be brow beaten and immediately went to Olenna with the issue. The Lady of Highgarden ensured her that she would look into the situation and do what she could to deal with her good-brother's behavior.

What came of her looking into Garth's actions wasn't what Lily hoped. It was two months after the attack when the pair was once more sitting in Olenna's solar. The look on Olenna's face was grim and certainly didn't inspire any sort of confidence in Lily. _As well it shouldn't have considering what followed._

They sipped on tea, something which Lily personally preferred over wine, when Olenna spoke, "Garth somehow convinced Moryn to give Reynard his last assignment with the express purpose of seeing him injured. From what I can tell, he even relayed the information of who was capturing their number to the gang so they might deal with the situation."

Lily face scrunched in revulsion at such a heinous act, "Surely I might explore some form of recourse."

"You could, but he is the castellan of Highgarden and has my husband's ear," Olenna gave a pained look, "I am highly fond of you Lily but I think it might best for you to leave the city with as much haste as you can manage once Reynard has fully healed. Garth will only continue to press the issue until you are either a pauper on the streets or until there is nothing left for you to do but give into his demands." She paused and said more as an afterthought, "Or you could attempt to remove him as an issue."

Lily didn't immediately dismiss the idea. After all, she was a serving girl perfectly capable of slipping some deadly concoction into Garth's drink should it so please her.

Olenna seemingly read her thoughts, "Should you manage to kill him, I wouldn't speak a word of your **possible** guilt. But there are others who know of his fascination with you and would turn their gazes upon you as the culprit. Moryn in particular would seek you out first and foremost. "

Lily sat in silent contemplation for what seemed an eternity, staring into nothing as she realized there was only one path to be taken, "I suppose I shall be leaving Highgarden then, though for where I cannot say."

"I shall provide you with some dragons regardless of where you decide to venture." She popped a fig into her mouth and hummed to herself, "In his current state, Reynard would be no use as a sellsword, so I would advise against journeying to Essos for the time being."

Lily nodded absently, "I was thinking perhaps Oldtown for a time," the truth was she had a desire to read some of the books held in the Citadel in hopes she might learn something with regards to her ever growing suspicions about Harry.

Olenna furrowed her brow, "I do not recall Reynard being well liked by the Hightowers, but I suppose you might be able to hide well in such a highly populous city."

"I hoped to read a few books in the library at the Citadel if I could," began Lily but she was cut off abruptly by Olenna.

"Pompous pricks they are, the maesters of the Citadel allow only men to peruse their many volumes." A disgruntled look crossed Lily's face that brought a small smile to Olenna's face. "Though a woman such as yourself might find a way to secret yourself in for a time."

"I shall consider it at the least." Lily returned the small commiserating smile.

Olenna popped another fig into her mouth, "If I recall correctly, your husband has at least one friend among the Dornish whom he might turn to."

"We considered that but Reynard decided against it given the Dayne's former association with the crown, and the crown's recent relation with the Lannisters." Lily explained.

Olenna scoffed, "Maekar might have married Dyanna Dayne but she is very much a distant relation to the current lord." She tapped her chin lightly, "Lord Ulric is good friends with your husband and fought beside him during the War of the Ninepenny Kings The man is honorable and wouldn't easily abandon the bond of friendship."

Lily nodded slowly, "You would be correct Olenna, which is much of the reason Reynard decided against traveling to Starfall. He did not wish to put his friend or his friend's family at risk."

"I notice you didn't have the same concern when thinking of me," Olenna teased though she seemed to understand the sentiment, "It is food for thought if nothing else. Though the Dornish have closer ties to the rest of the kingdom now than they ever did, they are still far enough removed from most things that you might well be safe there."

"We will survive well enough whatever path we decide to take." Lily said resolutely.

Olenna smiled reassuringly, "Of that I have no doubt."

A month later, Reynard healed sufficiently enough of his injuries that they could travel. He informed the city guard while Lily informed the maester of their departure. The older man gave her a sympathetic nod that day, clearly knowing more than most of the situation with Garth. They left the city early the next morning, the chill that sat in the air had made Lily glad they were heading south. _I was never particularly fond of winter and it didn't bite quite as deep in the Reach._

They had with them two horses and every gold and silver they could muster, including a small bag of dragons provided by Olenna as promised. Lily and the Lady of Highgarden shared a fond farewell her last day working in the castle. Lily very much doubted she would see her friend again anytime in the near future.

It was only once they were days from Highgarden that Lily told Reynard the full story of why she decided they should leave the city. When he heard of Garth's continued advances toward her and that he deliberately tried to see Reynard dead, he made to turn his horse around, ride back to the castle, and challenge the 'flatulent bastard' to an honor duel.

Lily calmed him by pointing out that in order to demand such a thing he would need to reveal his noble lineage thereby putting himself, Lily, Harrion and even Olenna at risk. He relented under her emerald gaze and even chuckled when she told him of one instance where she went so far as kneeing the man in the bollocks when he was drunk and tried groping her. _I imagine he didn't remember that particular encounter otherwise I would have faced some sort of reprisal._

Their journey down the Roseroad to Oldtown was blessedly quiet in nature. The path from Highgarden to Oldtown was well frequented and as a result, often left alone by bandits. Oldtown was beautiful in an entirely different way than Highgarden. The Hightower with its flaming top could be seen from miles off.

Upon entering the city, one was inundated with the sounds of people plying their trades along the cobbled stone roads, which were crisscrossed by rivers and canals. There were shops and taverns along every ally and winding path. The port was filled with ships from every major city of both Essos and Westeros. Music was performed by traveling bards on one side of the city square while mummers performed on the opposite side. Great stone mansions were a common sight as they trotted their horses through the city in search of somewhere they might find some sort of accommodations.

Their new landlord as it were was far less pleasant then Lynore. The room was smaller and poorly kept yet they were paying a copper a week more. The man, Clement, leered at Lily in an exceptionally unpleasant manner and only stopped when Reynard's hand went to his sword. When they were finally settled within their room, Reynard broached a subject she had feared for the three weeks it took them to reach the city.

"So… why exactly Oldtown?" He asked almost hesitantly, understandable considering how they had argued over their destination in the past, "I will admit at first I hoped you had changed your mind and decided journeying to Essos would be best but given you have paid up through three months already I can only assume I was wrong."

Lily smiled slyly, "Yes you would be wrong Rey," she gave him a light kiss, "I have no intention of journeying to Essos unless all other options are exhausted."

"Understood…" He let the word hang in the air as he awaited her explanation.

"I chose Oldtown because it is a large city and easy to keep a low profile in," she paused before mumbling, "I also would like to enter the Citadel."

Reynard stared at her incredulously for a long moment before he burst out in laughter, "Are you telling me you decided we ought to come to Oldtown, a city where I actually might be recognized should I come across one of the Hightowers, all because of your fascination with books?"

Lily slapped him as she guffawed, "I actually have a purpose behind the desire, not just simply because I love books." Her tone held no jest.

"And what purpose would that be?" Reynard asked with a raised eyebrow, no longer laughing and instead clearly concerned.

"Surely you have noticed as well as I have that strange things happen around Harry?" Reynard nodded minutely, "Well I would very much like to see if I might learn if there is anything behind it. I want proof it isn't mere paranoia on my part; the Citadel is my best hope of learning of such things."

"Lily they don't allow nonmembers, let alone women, into the Citadel library. They have always kept their secrets well." He rubbed his temples with a sigh, "How do you intend to make your way into their library?"

"I shall secret myself in during the night. I would ask you to do it but their second sons from multiple houses you have met over the years among the order; I would not risk them discovering you." Lily knew he wouldn't be happy with her decision.

Sure enough he sighed tiredly, "Lily, you really need to think of yourself as much as you do me."

"I do Rey, really I do," she gently caressed his cheek, "but I must also think of Harry." It was at that moment that their six year old son burst through the door with a pail of water in his hands.

"Mum, Dad, I met some other kids while I was getting the water." Both Reynard and Lily smiled at him.

"That is wonderful dear." The pair listened as he rambled on about the three boys and two girls he met. While Harry had friends in Highgarden, he couldn't tell them who he really was, or who his parents really were. As a result, he wasn't particularly attached to any of them the way he was his parents. There had been no teary goodbyes for him when he left the place, just a surprising level of maturity in the situation. Neither had any doubt it would be much the same with the children of Oldtown.

Over the next fifteen months winter set in and the family made do the best they could in Oldtown. Lily took a job as a washerwoman near the Citadel so she might learn the best way to enter the complex. Meanwhile, Reynard couldn't join the city guard as he had in Highgarden as the Hightowers were better acquainted with his appearance than the Tyrells. Instead, he worked as a dock hand. Admittedly his upbringing didn't lend itself to being particularly good at the task and he was reamed near constantly for the first month but he grew to be adequate at the very least. Harry spent a great deal of his time outside the house, sometimes going with his mother, but oft times playing with the other children. He seemed supremely uncomfortable in the confined space of their residence. He even woke up whimpering or even screaming in a cold sweat on occasion, after which Lily was always quick to comfort him. Neither Reynard nor Lily understood what caused these nightmares and Harry refused to speak of it.

It was three months after their arrival there that Lily first entered the Citadel. She wore a cloak over her shoulders with the hood up. In her observations, she learned there was an entrance along the western side of the complex that was all but hidden and used only as a means by acolytes and novices to have a fun night in the city.

Once inside, she found the library easily enough as it was the largest building and that night she removed three books on the subject of various types of magic. She read them over the course of a week and then returned them from whence they came. This trend continued for a year, over which time she read books pertaining to alchemy, necromancy, shadowbinding, the elemental control of the red priests, and even speculations on the nature of blood magic performed by the Valyrians. _Yet despite all that knowledge, none of it seemed to pertain to what I **think** Harry is capable of. _

And over that time strange occurrences continued around Harry, the most prominent of which being when he saved one of the other young children from being trampled by a horse. At face value this seemed innocuous enough as Harry was prone to helping others given the chance but, the other children claimed Harry pushed the girl, Alyse, out of the way but he did so from nearly twenty feet away. By all rights the girl should have been dead but something forced her out of the way rather violently. When Lily asked Harry about it, he insisted he didn't understand what happened and given her son's demeanor she believed him.

Unlike their departure from Highgarden, their exit from Oldtown was far from planned out. She had burst through the door at a run late into the night, awakening both Reynard and Harry who looked to her concerned.

"We need to leave… now." She said between heaves of breath. Reynard stood quickly, at her side in an instant.

"What happened?"

Lily stopped her bustling and looked down sheepishly, "I may have been caught while leaving the Citadel by one of the maesters, who then called one of the city guards. They found three books on my person, which I promptly used to knock them both out." Reynard looked at her stunned, "Of course, this was only after they saw my face." Oldtown did not take well to those who attempted to steal from the Citadel.

Reynard stared at her dumbfounded for a long moment, "Right, we should go… quickly… very quickly." Harry nodded from beside his father seriously, which only caused Lily to laugh and some of the tension to leave her body.

"Where do you think we should go Reynard?" Lily asked quietly as they quickly packed their few things.

Reynard stopped and looked at her for a long moment before turning back to the work at hand, "We will go to Starfall, I will request aid from Ulric and should he give it we might remain there for a time." He looked at her again, "But should he refuse we will go to Essos." Her face pinched up slightly to which he merely shook his head, "I am more than healthy since my ordeal in Highgarden, I could make a fine living for us as a sellsword and you might be able to find work that actually befits your intelligence and talents."

"And you might die as a sellsword, leaving me alone in this world save Harry with no hope of returning to my home." A tear fell down her pale cheek. Reynard quickly reached up and wiped it with the pad of his thumb.

"You said we would exhaust all options before venturing to Essos," Reynard soothed, "I have agreed with that much, but the Daynes are our last option. We both tire of hiding, at least in Essos we wouldn't have to do that any longer." She nodded her understanding as they made their way out of the tiny room. Lily noticed a look of relief cross Harry's face as they exited the small room for the last time. She knew he disliked the place but not so much to actually be gladdened at leaving it.

They hurried to the city gates on horseback, all the while Lily regretted she didn't have the opportunity to tell the woman for whom she worked of her departure. As they drew closer they could only hope that the maester and guard had yet to waken and warn others of her appearance and possible escape. They had some small bit of luck that night as the guards had yet to be alerted of any possible trouble and they cantered through the gates without a second glance.

There was no great road from Oldtown to Starfall, instead they made their way along muddy paths and through the rocky terrain of Dorne's western side before reaching Starfall. Even as far south as they were, the winter nights were still cold. More than once they huddled together as a family to keep warm. Game was less numerous in that area of the Reach and Dorne, so oft times they would have to make due on one kill for weeks. _I still thank the gods I thought to hold onto that bow even after our stay in Highgarden._

Starfall sat along the Torrentine, it dominated the landscape from its place upon a hill. The sea could be seen to the south and the river to the north. There was a small town along the slope of the hill along the bank of the river.

The castle itself had pure white walls. Its towers were capped with golden conical spires upon which the sigil of House Dayne blew softly in the breeze. The windows were stained a vivid purple, and there was a cobbled road that led up to the castle's gates. The gates themselves were massive blackwood doors stripped with iron that stayed open to the small folk of the area should they have a grievance to discuss with Lord Dayne.

They entered to find that Lord Ulric was currently hearing said grievances, his eldest son Arlan sat at his side. The Lord of Starfall was a tall, thin man of some fifty years, with dark hair that had begun to grey and indigo eyes. His face was cleanly shaven and he had a scar across his left brow that he received on the Stepstones during the War of the Ninepenny Kings; though, it did nothing to detract from his still handsome features.

The small folk's issues were simple things: need for a stonemason to fix a small granary nearby, a missing group of chickens, and a shipwright needed to fix one of the skiffs along the river. Reynard and Lily stood to the side with Harry just in front of them, and stayed for the most part out of sight. When they stepped in front of Lord Ulric, the man looked over Reynard's form for what felt like an eternity before he stood from his chair and looked him squarely in the eye. Arlan seemed concerned by his father's reaction but remained seated.

It was another long moment as Ulric simply stood locked in a staring contest with Reynard before he embraced his old friend fiercely and with a beaming smile, "How in the seven hells are you alive?" Lily only heard the question because she was standing just next her husband.

Reynard hugged his friend just as firmly before pulling away, "It is a very long story, one which you probably won't entirely believe… one I don't entirely believe myself most days." Reynard said the last more to himself than Ulric.

"One I would gladly hear my friend," Ulric gestured to his son, "I believe you remember Arlan." Reynard nodded at the heir of Starfall, who now had a look of recognition upon his face. "I am sure Arthur is in the yard practicing, while Ashara is probably with her mother."

Reynard smiled, "My wife Lily," He gestured to her, "and my son Harrion."

Ulric gave them both kind smiles, "How good to meet you. I remember quite well when Reynard sent me a raven telling me both of his wedding," he kissed Lily's hand, "and his son's birth." He ruffled Harry's hair kindly. He straightened and gestured to the doorman who immediately made to shut them. "Though your descriptions do not do your wife's beauty justice." Ulric laughed cheerfully at the slightly disgruntled look that crossed Reynard's face, "You will join us for dinner, and you might tell me why you have come." He gave Reynard a small smile, "though I think I can guess at it easily enough."

That night the entire Reyne family took clean, warm baths for the first time in over a month. They were given fresh clothes by some of the servants in the castle and Lily was provided a dress personally by Ulric's lady wife, Larra formerly of the House Velaryon. She was younger than her husband by some twenty years. She had violet eyes and hair of spun silver, common of those with Valyrian ancestry. She was tall for a woman, with gentle yet noticeable curves. Most important in Lily's opinion though was her kind smile.

The dress Larra provided was red silk, sleeveless, and showed a modest amount of her cleavage while hugging her hips tightly. Even in her time as a member of the wealthy House Reyne, she rarely wore such extravagant things. "Ulric told me you had beautiful red hair, like fire even." She smiled as she handed Lily the dress, "I thought you might like to wear this as it would suit you well." She accepted graciously though refused the offer of servants to help her dress. Lily had long since been accustomed to doing things for herself.

That night they feasted on roasted duck spiced with Dornish spices far hotter than anything she was accustomed to, she drank more than a little of the Arbor Gold on the table to cool her flaming mouth. There were leaks and potatoes seasoned with garlic and butter that tasted fantastic. For dessert there were apple tarts.

This was also the first time she had the opportunity to meet Ulric and Larra's younger children. Arthur was a boy of two and ten, with his father's eyes and facial structure but his mother's silver blonde hair. He was tall for his age and lean. He was incredibly courteous whenever spoken to, and showed a great deal of modesty when the topic of his skill with a blade came up.

Ashara was a little girl of seven; she had her mother's violet eyes and her father's dark hair. Her cheekbones were that of regal aristocracy while she had slim button nose. She used her pouty lips to her advantage by turning them on her father, who allowed her another sweet. She was shy around the adults being unaccustomed to company in their halls, but she was sure to mind her manners. She sat next to Harry where, over the course of the meal, they talked more readily with one another. More than once she heard them sharing stories of their childhood, and it was in those moments she could see the sort of child that Ashara Dayne really was, _a little lady with more than a little mischievousness in her bones._

They had a pleasant meal, the most pleasant since their time in Highgarden and probably since they still lived in Castamere. When it was over Ulric dismissed his younger children who both took Harry to tour the castle. When they left the room Ulric addressed Reynard, "So we have dined on great food and had pleasant conversation, now I would like to hear an interesting story my old friend."

Reynard took a sip of the wine in front of him before turning to Ulric, "You have no doubt heard what became of Castamere in the wake of Tywin Lannister's wroth?"

Ulric snorted, "Everyone in the Kingdoms knows what happened to Castamere, people sing that fucking song often enough it's hard to forget."

"Song?" Questioned Lily suddenly.

"You haven't heard it then?" Both Reynes shook their head, "I suppose you haven't been to any tourneys since departing the Westerlands then."

Larra answered the question for them, "Some bard wrote 'The Rains of Castamere" to commemorate the destruction of your house. I'd say nigh on everyone has heard it at least once in the past… what has it been now, six some odd years."

"It is absolutely fantastic to know the fall of my house has been immortalized in song," Reynard said with a hint of bitterness though not directed at Ulric or Larra, "but I digress. You know of Castamere being flooded then?" Ulric nodded his head in the affirmative, "We were there with all the others as the halls filled to the ceiling with water; some people screamed, others wept but some just accepted their fate." His voice took on a faraway, almost haunted quality as he continued, "I won't ever forget that desperation, that fear… when suddenly there was this terrible squeezing and darkness all around," Lily gripped his hand underneath the table and continued for him.

"We thought it was death taking us, but… when we opened our eyes we were standing on a hill miles away from Castamere." All three Daynes stayed silent in rapt attention, "We didn't… don't… understand how or why we survived when so many others died, but we left that hill promising we would live." Lily smiled at Reynard slightly, "We found a village nearby and bought dry clothes from a family there before heading south on foot."

Together they explained everything: their stay in Tarbeck, the four year stay in Highgarden, why they were forced to leave the southern castle, their journey to Oldtown, they did omit why exactly they were forced to leave the trade city, and finally they told of their arrival in Starfall.

The three Daynes listened intently, only interrupting occasionally for clarification. When everything was done Ulric leaned back in his chair and started chuckling causing both of them to look at him quizzically and with no small amount of irritation. When he brought himself under control he waved his hands, "I meant no offense, it is simply humorous to me as you needn't have risked discovery in Highgarden nor wasted your time in Oldtown." He looked them both in the eye, "You need only have journeyed here and I would have offered you safety, and the gods know nearly no one from the Westerlands steps foot in Dorne, so you would have been under no sort of threat."

Reynard looked relieved and slightly sheepish as well, "Lily said much the same thing, but I was reluctant to put you at risk."

"Yet you had no problem putting Olenna Tyrell at risk," countered Larra with a raised eyebrow.

Lily spoke up before Reynard had the chance to respond, " **I** had no problem contacting her, as I was quite aware the woman is both cautious and intelligent enough to avoid any unpleasantness should she wish."

Ulric laughed again, "You should listen to your wife Reynard; she seems to see things a bit more clearly than you." This caused everyone at the table to chuckle before Ulric continued, "Now, I assume you have come here seeking my hospitality." He took a quick sip of wine, "I shall put your minds at ease and tell you it is granted from this point forward for as long as you wish to stay. But I have certain requests of you."

"Of course, we would not wish to impede upon your hospitality without thought toward paying you back in whatever ways we can." Reynard bowed his head slightly.

"Excellent," Ulric clapped his hands he gestured to Reynard, "Your brother might have been renowned as 'the Red Lion of Castamere" but you were always exceptionally skilled with a sword in hand as well." He smiled, "I find this particularly fortuitous on two levels. First, I am in need of a master at arms for the castle. The second is more personal, Arthur is currently squiring for his brother, and while Alran has some talent for the blade it is not the favorite of his pursuits." Here his smile turned to pride in his younger son, "Arthur has more talent with a blade in hand than any boy or man I have met in my entire life, and that includes Barristan Selmy. He would benefit from your tutelage."

Reynard turned to Arlan who took the opportunity to elaborate, "It is true, my younger brother has more skill with a blade or lance than I could ever hope. Truth be told, I think he is probably already a better swordsman than I could ever hope to be. It is my opinion he would benefit from another hand in his training." He paused, "I fought in the War of the Ninepenny Kings right alongside you and father, I know you are better with a blade than I am and Arthur deserves to benefit from that as much as possible."

Reynard didn't even hesitate in his response, "I will gladly take up the position of master at arms for Starfall. I have missed the feel of a sword in my hand this past year." He stopped a moment in thought, "I would like the opportunity to teach Harry as well if I may?"

"As though you need ask," Ulric patted him on the shoulder, "Harry can train with the blade right alongside Arthur and the other boys and men of the castle."

"And what would you request of me?" Lily spoke up. These people hardly knew her so she couldn't imagine what task they might have divined for her in just a few short hours.

Larra smiled softly at her, "Our septa recently passed away, admittedly the woman wasn't well suited to the task of teaching a young girl of Ashara's temperament and our maester is even worse." She looked away a moment, "I teach her what I can myself, but I know there are areas in which I am lacking." Here she looked to Reynard, "Your husband told Ulric in no uncertain terms that despite being the daughter of a blacksmith, you were one of the single brightest women he ever had the pleasure of meeting."

"I have no problem teaching my daughter sewing, the significance of the Seven, and the formalities of nobility but I would like you to teach her histories and math if you might? I am aware I hardly know you, and that Ashara might not be particularly open to you but I would prefer you over some sour old septa if possible" She clearly didn't care for the women from the religious order if her tone was any indication.

Lily nodded slowly, "Save Harry, I have never taught any children, but I will certainly do the best I can at the endeavor."

Larra smiled widely, "That is all I can ask, and I am sure you will do splendidly at the task." The conversation fell into more mundane things after that, such as where Ashara was in her studies and where Arlan felt Arthur had the most room for improvement.

It seemed such a long journey now as she looked down with a soft smile at the yard of Starfall, where Harry wore padded protective gear and held a blunted blade in his hand; across from him stood Arthur while Reynard instructed them from not far away. Ashara sat on a bench nearby, swinging her legs happily as she watched her brother and friend learn the sword.

They swung at each other; Harry more clumsily than his older opponent. This part of their daily training was often for Harry's benefit instead of Arthur's, though it certainly didn't bother the older boy who had taken to helping Harry whenever he could. Her attention was pulled from the yard by the door opening behind her where Larra's silver head was revealed.

"Hmmm, I expected to find Ashara up here. Has she really already finished her lessons?" Lily nodded and pointed down to the yard. Larra approached the window where she stood and looked out, her ever warm smile crossing her beautiful face.

"Harry and Ashara finished their lessons nearly an hour ago and have been in the yard since," Lily explained. Harry refused to take lessons with the maester over his mother which bothered neither her nor Ashara. "I decided to stay here and read for a while but couldn't help but watch them."

"I must admit I worried, if only slightly, at your initial arrival," Larra began, "but Ulric quickly put any issues I might have had to rest." She placed a hand on Lily's shoulder drawing her emerald gaze to Larra's violet, "You have been nothing but a blessing since your arrival. Both Arthur and Ashara greatly enjoy having Harry around, while Reynard has helped not only Arthur but our guardsman as well. Or at least that is what Arthur and Ulric tell me." She finished with a slight snicker as she didn't really know much about swordplay to say herself.

She nudged Lily's shoulder lightly with her own, "And then there is you. Ashara loves learning from you and I find myself learning a great deal when I sit in on your lessons as well," They shared a brief chuckle, "and I find myself with as good a friend as my children."

"While I don't regret our time in Highgarden," _or even Oldtown for that matter, though I learned far less than I hoped,_ "I feel we might have benefitted from coming here sooner." She looked down to her son, "Harry hasn't been antisocial in our previous homes but he has never become so attached as he has to your children. It makes me smile every time I see Harry and Arthur working in the yard particularly when your son takes him aside and offers some small piece of advice. And then there are those moments when he and Ashara are off in a corner sharing, and sometimes inventing, stories or reading a book together."

"I certainly agree with you. They have been good for one another." The two women stood there for quite some time watching their children talking idly about whatever came to mind.

* * *

Underneath his helmet Harrion Reyne's face poured rivulets of sweat that dripped from his nose down to the ground. His legs were aflame with the effort of making another movement and his arms screamed out as he hefted the blunted blade in his hand yet again. He could feel the blisters on his hands forming over the newly made calluses there. _But I have felt worse, or remember feeling worse at the very least._

And yet he continued on, lashing out at the silver-haired boy across from him. He stabbed out with the tip of his blade trying to make contact at the chest, only to have it batted away. He dodged the incoming slash with a quick step to the left. He slashed at Arthur's right arm only to feel his own sword arm rattled with the force of his weapon making contact with his opponent's. He pulled back quickly, righting himself to the best of his abilities and made for another attack. He feinted right and made to go left but the older boy dodged and made to strike at his side. Harry tried desperately to pull back and deflect the blow. _Too slow always just a little too slow._ The pain that erupted in his rib cage despite the protective gear upon his body was more than enough indication that he had failed to maintain his defense while going on the offensive. He heaved a painful breath but stayed on his feet.

"That will be enough for now, I think," Both Harrion and Arthur turned to look at Reynard who stood to the side watching intently. He approached the two boys but addressed only Harry, "You are getting better but you have a tendency to forget about what possible openings you leave when on the attack." His voice was stern but not uncaring.

When they started this training, Reynard made it abundantly clear he would not treat Harry any differently from anyone else when in the yard, "You cannot see me as your father, and I can't see you as my son. It would be an injustice to both you and the others should I favor you." Harry merely nodded resolutely and there had been no issues regarding their relationship since he started learning the sword six months prior. When in the yard they were entirely business and when without they were father and son.

As such, Harry looked his father in the eye and spoke evenly, "I will work to do better in the future."

Reynard smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder, "I know you will Harry." He pushed him slightly toward the training dummies, "Spend some time on our wooden men, and then you will be done for the day." With that Reynard turned to the others in the yard.

In his place Arthur stepped up and clapped him on the shoulder. Harry had come to idolize the older boy slightly, as a younger brother might look to his elder and Arthur seemed willing enough to fill that role, "Your father is right, you get better every day." He lifted his sword and made the same movement that resulted in Harry's heaving breaths, "Just remember that if you overreach you must know it before your opponent. Obviously the best way to avoid such a thing is to avoid overreaching, but should it be the only way to exploit an advantage you must be aware of where you are leaving yourself open so you might recover."

Harry gave a small smile and nod of his head, "I will remember that in future." Arthur returned the gesture and then went to join Harry's father for his own, more advanced training. As he turned, he noticed Ashara firing arrows into a target. Her young arms were unable to pull the bow back particularly far but she still managed to hit land each arrow in the straw. He laughed to himself lightly. _She is definitely the only person willing to come into the yard wearing a dress._ Ashara could be a contradiction in that way, as she had no problem being a noble little lady while other times she enjoyed getting grimy with Harry.

Harry stood before the wooden dummy and started beating at it with tired arms. The repetitiveness of the action allowed him to slip into his own thoughts.

He loved it at Starfall, as while he didn't show it, he detested their stay in Oldtown. The tiny room, in which both he and his parents were forced to sleep in seriously confined spaces, brought back memories… memories of a life that wasn't his, or that at least wasn't Harrion Reyne's. Every night in his sleep while in the trade city, he dreamed of a cupboard under a staircase and a little boy who looked eerily like him, save for a scar on his head and some sort of glasses upon his young eyes.

It was these dreams… these memories that woke him screaming or whimpering in the middle of the night covered in a cold sweat, only to find his mother or father there to comfort him… something which his twin in the dream never received. Over time he became accustomed to them enough that he only awoke when they were particularly gruesome.

When 'his' body was broken and bleeding, he was forced to sit in the darkness with none for company but the spiders of the cupboard. When his hands were cut and blistered, burned and bruised, there was no one there to heal them, tend to them. Instead a vile woman with blonde hair… _though not the beautiful silver blonde of Larra it is more of a dull blonde…_ or her rotund husband… _far fatter than any man I have met in my young life…_ would add to his injury with a slap to the back of the head, sometimes with a frying pan. These memories made him wise beyond his year, and while most times he could be the average child, happy and playful, other times he would be quiet and contemplative.

It wasn't just when he slept that these memories would spring up. There were events that would force them to the fore in the waking world as well.

He never told his parents the full story behind Alyse and how he came to save her life. She didn't just incidentally end up in the middle of the cobblestone path, she was chased there. The girl was ostracized among the other children because she had pale white skin, equally white hair, and shocking red eyes. _Albino mother called it._ They would chase her through the streets, ridiculing her as they went.

Their little chase brought back a memory of a grotesquely overweight boy and his various cronies chasing 'him' through the paved streets of a truly dull looking town. They would corner him and beat him till nearly bloody , though they were smart enough not to allow it to be visible on his body. When Harry saw the children of Oldtown doing the same to Alyse something bubbled up inside of him. The day they nearly killed the girl by first chasing and then pushing her into a busy street, he unleashed that feeling only for something unexpected to happen. He pushed her… with something… ten yards clear across the way, where she landed with a surprising gentleness considering the speed with which she traveled. That was the first time he actively used whatever was inside of him. _Though, I do have some vague memories of taking a tray of sweets when we were still in Highgarden._

At that point Harry walked straight up to her offenders and told them to leave her alone in no uncertain terms. The leader of the group, a boy twice Harry's size tried to intimidate him. The attempt failed miserably. Harry had felt pain, plenty of it in his dreams, so he felt no fear in that regard. But unlike his counterpart, he knew he could fight back because he had a mother and father willing to help him in all things.

To say the least, this didn't endear him to the other children and while he often wandered in solitude after that, he preferred it over being stuck in their tiny home. He and Alyse became friends of a sort, but she feared him in her own way… and her eyes brought a terrible face to the fore of his mind. _One with slit red eyes, a snakelike nose and cruel smile._

In his solitude, he would try to once again get that feeling to bubble up inside of him. Sometimes he would succeed, but never to the scale that he had with Alyse. _The emotion of the moment seemed to be important._ Still the longer he practiced and the older he became, the easier it seemed to be to get results. _I can move things easily enough now if I focus and I haven't had any accidental bursts since that moment with Alyse._

He hadn't told his parents of this ability mainly because he didn't know what or how to tell them. _Mum, dad I can move things with my mind if I try hard enough… and I think I could do more if I try hard enough._ There was no magic his mother had taught him of that's description matched his capabilities; so to his young mind, it just sounded so absurd he couldn't bring himself to tell them.

He continued to swing absently at the dummy, focusing on his footwork all while thinking over his own oddities. He didn't realize how much time passed when he felt a poke on his shoulder. He turned to see Ashara waiting behind him rocking back and forth on her heels and staring at him with her beautiful violet eyes, "Everyone else has taken their afternoon meal Harry, maybe you should as well." There was a distinct note of teasing in her voice.

Harry looked around the yard and realized he was, in fact, alone save Ashara, "Of course Ash, I should just go and wash up, otherwise my mother will box my ears when I arrive to eat." The image caused the little girl to laugh giddily and pull on his arm. He went along willingly, once again glad to be at Starfall.

* * *

AN: I considered writing things as they happened instead of skipping ahead the way I did. But if you've read my other works you know I tend to go into detail and I had no interest in writing another chapter with Harry as an infant, and half a dozen more after that on the things I covered in this chapter. I wrote the scenes I wanted in detail and I hope everyone liked the end result.

The chapters after this will have much more of Harry's perspective, though there will be others as well. I hope the brief look into his mind helped answer any questions whether he will have the memories of a life as Harry Potter. Not only does he have them but he feels the pain of them when he relives them.

A note on the Daynes. There is no definitive information regarding Ashara or Arthur's ages nor is there any information on their parents or older brother. I always felt that Arthur was probably a year or two older than Rhaegar and Ashara was the same age as Robert. Allyria has not yet been born.

Thank you for reading. Until next time.


	3. Chapter 3

AN:Thanks for reading the last chapter ladies and gentleman. I appreciate the reviews and as for the guests...

coldblue: 1) I suppose there might be some similarities between Harrion and Aerion but they already have much different origins 2) you'll have to wait and see 3) Possibly 4) You'll have to wait and see, there will be differences to canon because of Harry's presence though. I'm not the sort of person who writes a fic only to keep everything exactly the same 5) Magic will develop over the course of the story and manifest in different ways.

Guest: I actually considered having the 'memories' work both ways when I first started writing the story but decided against it. Though the memories Harrion has from his alternate self may not remain entirely canon.

Onto the next chapter.

* * *

Harry and Ashara walked barefoot along the edge of the Torrentine, their feet digging into the sand as they ran their hands through the long brown grass along the bank. They'd each finished their daily lessons and training. While they'd invited Arthur along,the older boy declined in favor of spending even more time in the yard. While Harry enjoyed the sword and even seemed to have some talent at it, he wanted to spend time doing other thing as well. _He wants to be the first Sword of the Morning in three generations and the single best knight in the realm and he means to spend as much time as he can with blade in hand to ensure that is exactly what happens._ So, it was just the two younger children enjoying the warmth of the waning sun. The pair was discussing some of the history Lily taught them recently.

"It's hard to imagine fires so hot they could melt stone," Ashara stated slowly as she looked back into the distance where Starfall was still easily visible, "I can't imagine the walls of Starfall melting like that."

"I know," he said as he beat at the grass around them with a stick, "It must have been horrible, sitting in those halls, thinking yourself untouchable behind within your strong towers only for death to come out of the sky on black wings and do something most would think impossible." Harry spaced out slightly as he spoke. Someday he hoped to see Harrenhal and the testament of what happened when one defied a true dragon.

Ashara looked at him quizzically, "Are you okay?"

Harry nodded shaking himself in the process, "From what my mum said, Harren was a terrible man, feared by many and hated by more but it still seems an awful way to die."

Ashara shook slightly, "Seems the worst sort of way to die."

"Could you imagine seeing a real dragon though? They say Balerion's wings were so wide he could cover whole towns in shadow and his head was so large that he could eat a cow whole." Like all children Harry felt a certain sense of wonderment regarding the legendary beasts.

"But they're gone now," Ashara said sadly, clearly just as disappointed by the simple truth as Harry was, "the last Targaryen dragon died during the reign of Aegon III, and there hasn't been a dragon in the East since the Doom."

"The only dragons left are the Targaryens," _And silver hair and purple eyes don't make them nearly as impressive as the winged beasts who won them a throne._

"You know I heard a story from a woman in the village about the Targaryen's during the First Dornish War, want to hear it?" Ashara asked idly as she sat down along the bank of the river and held her feet in the water.

Harry joined her and enjoyed the slight chill of the water as it ran across his skin, "Of course."

She started her tale with a question, "Remember your mum was telling us about how Aegon and Visenya burned every castle in Dorne at least once after Rhaenys was killed upon Meraxes at Hellholt?"

"Every castle save Sunspear," Harry corrected earning him an eye roll from the little girl, "but yes I remember the story, mum did just tell us yesterday." He added the last as though it were obvious.

"Well this woman, Cedra her name was, told me that Rhaenys didn't **really** die at Hellholt," Ashara said quickly with a childish excitement, "She told me that Rhaenys was taken captive and held within the castle by the Ullers."

"I thought that was only a rumor?" Harry questioned, his mother having stated much the same but claiming it was widely believed to be a lie.

"It is according to most people Harry," Ashara said exasperatedly, "but Cedra said that it was the truth and that isn't where the story ends." She straightened up and looked at Harry square in the eye, "People say that when Princess Deria went to King's Landing with her father's peace terms, the letter immediately convinced him to accept," She waved him off as he made to speak, "I **know** that the maesters believe the letter might have contained information about Rhaenys being tortured but Cedra told me that it didn't just claim she was still alive but held proof in the form of a bit of her skin and that is why when Aegon released his hold on the letter his hand came away bloody." She said this all in a rush.

Harry looked skeptical at best, "I doubt Aegon would be convinced his sister was alive from just a strip of skin."

Ashara huffed crossing her arms across her chest, "It seems more likely than Aegon simply taking Nymor at his word that Rhaenys was still alive, Harry."

Harry ran a hand through his dark hair, "Hmm, I suppose that is true," he didn't sound entirely convinced but his agreement brought a smile to Ashara's face causing him to smile in turn.

"Glad you see things my way then," Harry just nodded and they fell into silence for a short while, simply enjoying the nature around them. Ashara was staring out at the running current of the river when she spoke to him again, "I heard my father speaking with yours, there's going to be a tourney at Ashford in three months."

"Really?" Harry asked happily to which she nodded slightly, "I've never been to any sort of tourney."

"Me neither," Ashara said glumly bring her knees up and resting them against her chin, "and I doubt my mother will allow me to go to this one either." Harry never discussed tourneys with Ashara, instead doing that almost exclusively with Arthur so he was surprised to hear she had never been. _Perhaps we might both go to this one, assuming my parents let me go of course._

"Arlan will have his name in the lists and I'm guessing that Arthur will be fighting in the melee." She explained simply before looking to him, "I won't like being left here alone again, while I love Starfall, it can be quite boring with just my mother and me."

Harry furrowed his brow in confusion, "What makes you think that I will be going to the tourney?"

"Knights and Lords can have more than one squire Harry," Ashara said quietly, "And while your father might not be able to go, no one has any idea who you are. You were a baby the last time any noble saw you." She grew increasingly upset about the idea of being left at Starfall while her brother and Harry were allowed to go off to the tourney.

Harry poked her lightly in the shoulder, regaining her attention at which point he could see just how upset she was about being left alone. Wetness touched her violet eyes as she sniffled lightly, "Sorry, I'm being stupid. I'm just tired of being forced to stay here when my brother and father go off to tourneys."

"You're not being stupid Ash," Harry insisted to which she gave him a look of disbelief, "We'll figure out a way to convince your parents to let you go… of course that is only if I am going too," this caused her to nod firmly, "… but I promise, if you can't go I won't be going either." This bit of news brightened her mood immediately, a wide smile once again breaking out across her face. She hugged him tightly something which surprised him initially before he returned the gesture. She pulled away from the hug and immediately stood up.

"Thank you," She reached out for one of his hands and hefted him to his feet with quite a bit of effort, "Come on, it's starting to get dark and I want to practice some archery before the chill sets in." He laughed slightly at how quickly he managed to change her mood but happy about it nonetheless.

They walked slowly back toward Starfall as the sun drew ever closer to the horizon. Ashara walked a good ten paces in front of him when Harry kicked a bit of sand out and into the grass. He stopped when he heard a voice speak seemingly from nowhere, speaking almost incoherent nonsense, ' _Didn't want to wake… sssand…attack… bite… bite… bite.'_ He looked around curiously trying to be as discreet as he could manage so as not to alert Ashara to his confusion and seeming insanity.

That is when he noticed it in the grass some three feet away from Ashara, black with flecks of yellow along its scales and roughly four feet in length. _The voice seems to be coming from the snake… but that can't be possible._

It was at that moment that he was pulled into a memory, one of his bespectacled counterpart looking into a glass enclosure. The reflection looked older than he had in previous memories, and older than Harrion was, for the very first time. He wore clothing far too large for his skinny frame that was held up by what appeared to be a makeshift belt. He was standing in a large room with enclosures cut off by glass.

On the other side of the glass from him sat a large snake. Then 'he' spoke in a hiss, one that Harrion could understand. The snake replied in a hiss but with far more refinement than the black snake nearing him and Ashara. But then by the will of 'his' magic, the glass disappeared with a faint popping noise and the snake slithered out of the building.

As Harrion returned to his own conscious thoughts, it was readily apparent to him that he could speak to snakes. He wanted to curse out loud as he realized his brief lapse of attention allowed the snake to draw closer to them and more importantly Ashara. It rose up fangs bared and a drip of venom falling from the tip, Harry wasn't close enough to stop the snake by conventional means and too panicked to make the conscious effort to move the snake, so he did what came naturally in the situation, ' _Ssstop!'_

Both Ashara and the black snake looked at him, Ashara in confusion and the snake in what he could only describe as annoyance. ' _Human… you kicked sand… bite.'_ The distraction did serve one important purpose as Ashara noticed the large snake near her leg and jumped back quickly though he noted she didn't shriek or even look particularly fearful. She quickly moved toward Harry and the pair stared at the snake each with a stick in hand. The snake seemed to think better of its situation and left cursing out Harry and Ashara ' _humans… wake me from sleep… threaten to attack…only defending self.'_ They kept a cautious eye on the snake's departure, breathed a mutual sigh of relief and then continued their walk back to the castle.

They took no more than ten steps when Ashara asked the question he knew was coming, "Did you hiss at that snake?" She had her brow furrowed in confusion as she tried to process exactly what she'd just seen.

 _I could simply tell her the truth or try to pass it off as me simply trying to distract the snake and by some stroke of luck succeeding… but something tells me she wouldn't believe me if I tried to lie._ Harry warred with his own thoughts. _Perhaps she'll understand… or she could want nothing to do with me like the kids in Oldtown._ That thought more than any scared Harry, he would not handle rejection from either Ashara or Arthur well. He spent nearly a minute simply staring ahead blankly as Ashara awaited his answer until finally she tired of his silence and shook his shoulder lightly, "So did you really just hiss at that snake?"

Harry took a shuddering breath as he decided that it couldn't hurt to share this tiny secret with Ashara… despite his serious misgivings about what could come of the admission. He just wouldn't offer up any unnecessary information. He spoke clearly doing his best to betray nothing, quite a task for an eight year old, "Yes, I hissed at the snake."

"Why?" She couldn't understand what would possess him to take that particular course of action.

"It was about to bite you," He began earnestly, "By the time I noticed the snake, it was too far away for me to reach it and I just did the first thing that came to mind."

She started to laugh at him slightly which made him frown in equal parts confusion and anger. As her giggling fit came to an end, she turned and smiled prettily at him, "Thank you for protecting me, even if you decided to call out to the **snake** instead of me."

Harry breathed an internal sigh of relief. He managed to explain the situation without revealing anything. He was surprised at his luck with the usually inquisitive and intuitive girl. Her next statement proved to be his undoing and the end of his luck though.

Glancing at him at the corner she commented lightly, "It almost seemed like you knew how to speak to the snake. I know I couldn't hiss so… perfectly." He couldn't help the grimace that crossed his face and she turned to him with wide eyes, "You didn't just hiss at it did you?"

"To you, it sounded like a hiss," he looked over and made eye contact, "To me, I simply said the word stop." She didn't speak and seemed to be waiting for him to continue, "I heard the snake before I saw it Ash. It was angry because I accidentally kicked sand on it."

Her reaction was immediate. She leaned in and flicked him on the ear hard, "That is for putting my life in danger to begin with," she then hugged him firmly, "that is for making sure that the snake didn't hurt me." She whispered into his ear.

When they pulled apart he stared at her mouth agape, absolutely shocked by her reaction. She laughed at him again then, "Harry, close your mouth you look like a fish out of water like that." He quickly snapped his mouth shut before chuckling himself as he imagined just how stupid he likely looked.

Ashara was silent for a long moment before her curiosity finally got the better of her, "So you can speak to snakes then?"

Harry nodded minutely, afraid of where this conversation might lead, "Yes, it seems I can talk to snakes."

Ashara started almost bouncing with excitement, a reaction that he hadn't seen from her very often, "That is sooo amazing. But did you know before today?" She finished with a curious lilt to her voice.

Harry knew he should have known better than to believe his friend would think ill of him for his ability but he couldn't help that small niggling of doubt. He couldn't help but match her rising excitement as he finally could talk to somebody about at least one of the oddities about him, "No I definitely didn't know I could talk to snakes before today but I think it is pretty amazing that I can. I wish I hadn't put you in danger to learn about it though."

She waved her hand, "You kept me safe Harry, no harm done." She tapped her chin as she thought, "It might sound strange but maybe we should try and find some snakes along the banks of the river and the coast of the sea. They might be able to tell us some interesting stories or who knows what else… I mean they're snakes… they must have some interesting things to say."

Harry nodded enthusiastically, "We should definitely do that, though the snake who attacked you didn't seem particularly intelligent but…" he rubbed his head sheepishly, "that might be because he only just woke up thanks to me."

Ashara snorted, "I've seen you in the mornings and you aren't very coherent bright and early either." Harry looked mildly offended for a moment before conceding her point with a shrug. _It's true._ Ashara continued ignoring his look, "So perhaps we should give them at least one more opportunity before deciding if all the snakes in the Kingdoms aren't worthy of talking to?" It was as much a statement as it was a question.

"Seems fair to me," Harry responded with a smile before it disappeared quickly, "We'll keep this just between us for now, right?" He'd considered telling his parents about his abilities more and more of late but couldn't bring himself to do it, yet. He was a child and the things he could do sounded far-fetched to him so he could only imagine what his parents would think. The memories of what had happened to his counterpart when he displayed his magic to his guardians didn't give him any hope either.

Ashara turned to him with a raised eyebrow, "Of course Harry. I promise I won't talk to anyone about it unless they already know." The obvious honesty shining in her big eyes made Harry smile. A sudden light lit up behind those eyes as she continued, "I wonder if you would have been able to speak to the dragons before they died out? Could you imagine? You might have been able to speak to creatures hundreds of years old."

 _Now that would have been something, just getting to be around when dragons existed would have been a dream come true but to actually speak to one of them._ Harry looked wistfully into the distance where the sun was setting in the west, "I suppose we'll never know."

The chatted happily as they entered the town outside of Starfall, though conversation regarding Harry's newfound ability ceased. Ashara smiled happily at him as they walked through the gates into the courtyard, "Come on, there is still time before dinner and I wanted to stick a few arrows in the dummies."

"Have you ever wanted to learn how to use a sword?" Harry asked as they made their way over to the eastern wall where arrows were held in large oaken barrels and bows made of ironwood sat nearby. Ashara quickly pulled hers from the group of them. Despite being smaller than most it was still quite large for the seven year old girl. She knocked an arrow, took a deep breath, pulled back the string with her elbow raised high, took a moment to aim, and loosed the arrow driving the shaft into the chest of the dummy some thirty feet away from them in the yard.

It was only then that she turned to Harry with a small smirk, "No Harry, I don't want to learn how to use a sword… at least not now. The bow is enough for me. And let's be honest, my arms work hard enough at lifting the bow and pulling the string, I doubt I would be much use holding a weighted practice blade."

He laughed with no hint of derision, "That makes sense," he glanced over at where the arrow had made contact with the dummy, "you seem to be good enough with a bow anyway."

She smiled widely, "My thoughts exactly." The pair spent an hour turning the dummy into a pin cushion before entering the castle for their evening meal.

* * *

A month later Harry sat in his room at Starfall, staring at the ceiling with a solid black ball in his right hand, sore from a long day of training. He was getting better and he'd become accustomed to the pain most days but he'd taken a rather vicious hit to the thigh by way of Arthur when he failed to block his left side. Harry was beginning to find he didn't like fighting with a shield in hand. His greatest advantage was speed. Both his father and Arthur admitted that Harry was exceptionally light on his feet, with a natural agility that wasn't possible for most children his age. _Tomorrow I won't use a shield, or at least not a full sized shield. It only slows me down and takes away what small advantage I might have._

On the other hand, Arthur was quick of foot but also powerful. Even at only two and ten he could best many men with sheer strength, and his tireless training with Harry's father over recent months had yielded impressive results. _He hopes to win his first melee in Ashford and I truly believe he will._

But Harry and Ashara still hadn't tried to convince Larra and Ulric she should go as well, so he wasn't even sure he would be attending the tourney. Harry threw the ball in his hand up into the air and allowed it to reach its zenith and begin its descent before he locked his eyes on it and twitched his fingers. Roughly a foot above his hand, the ball stopped dead in its tracks hovering in the air unwaveringly. Harry just let it sit there under his gaze for a long moment, once again wondering why he was capable of such things. He assumed it was because of his counterpart… or past self. _I still don't really understand how or why I see the things I do._ They'd come less frequently lately and the best part was he no longer suffered nightmares thanks to the confined spaces of Oldtown.

Harry started swiping his thumb from right to left and the ball spun gaining speed as it went. He flexed his fingers and the ball moved upwards, the spinning slowed slightly but he started moving his thumb again. He continued this pattern, moving the ball up and down side to side, but always keeping the ball spinning in the air. After some twenty minutes he could feel himself starting to feel a level of fatigue. It was both similar and different than using muscles for training in the yard. Similar in that he could feel the strain, like a muscle being broken and then strengthened but it didn't affect any one part of his body. It seemed to touch something deeper within him; something that couldn't be seen.

Once he felt the strain he kept going for another twenty minutes, forcing himself past the threshold he could feel pressing upon him. His training with his abilities… his magic… had only progressed better since taking up the sword with his father. He understood now what it took to make himself better and did just that. He finished by hurling the ball with as much speed as he could manage straight at the wall furthest from him, only to stop it mere inches from making contact. This took a great deal of effort on his part, and multiple beads of sweat broke out across his face. He slowly brought the ball back to his hand and as it hovered just above his outstretched finger the door suddenly opened causing him to lose focus and for it to drop heavily into his grasp. _I thought I locked that… stupid._ He couldn't help but reprimand himself for his lack of attention.

Standing in the doorway looking at him with a raised eyebrow was his father. Reynard looked around the room, pleased to note that his son was better about organization than he'd been as a child. Granted, Harry didn't have nearly as much to clutter his room as Reynard had at his age. He approached Harry's bed and looked at him with a raised eyebrow taking in his sweat lined face, "What were you doing in here all by yourself, wouldn't you rather be outside spending some time with Arthur or Ashara?"

"Arthur is in the yard, and I've already spent hours there today," Harry responded more defensively than he meant to, "and Ashara is spending time with her mother at the moment. I believe they are sowing something." He couldn't help the slight look of distaste that overcame him then.

Reynard laughed at his son's reaction, "Yes, I believe your mother told me much the same. I think she was helping them, in fact. But I imagine Ashara has finished by now." Lily wasn't the level of seamstress that Larra was but knew the craft nonetheless; though, she was far more comfortable in the heat of a forge working the metals, than she ever would be with a piece of silk in hand.

His father sat beside him on the bed, leaning back against the headboard, before speaking, "So why are you sweating nearly as much as if you just finished in the yard again?" He gestured to Harry's sweaty head and the dampness upon the white shirt he wore.

Harry lifted the ball in his hand to for his father's viewing, "I was tossing this ball around father, I didn't even realize how long or hard I was at it." To his mind it was quite the believable lie but his father's scrutinizing eyes had him swallowing drily.

"Harry, our rooms aren't far from yours and I have been there for nearly the past hour and haven't heard a sound from this room," He grabbed the ball from Harry's hand and threw it against the nearest wall where it made quite the loud bang before quickly bouncing back and into his hand. He turned inquisitive eyes back to Harry, "I would have heard a noise that loud, so what really caused you to sweat?" He asked calmly.

Harry shook his head slightly, "I really was throwing the ball against the wall," he shrugged slightly but kept his gaze on his father, "I couldn't say why you couldn't hear it." He'd recently reached the decision that he would tell his parents one way or another, but wanted to do it on his terms with both of them present if possible.

Reynard looked less than convinced but let the matter drop… for now. After all, it wasn't particularly important what caused Harry's current condition. Instead he shifted so he was sitting slightly closer to his son, "So, I'm sure you've heard by now that there is to be a tournament at Ashford in two months' time."

"Yes father, Ashara told me a month ago." Harry said calmly, now slightly more positive he knew where this was going.

"I didn't know Ashara was aware of the tourney," Reynard said lightly before shaking his head, "Anyway, you will be attending the tournament as Arlan's second squire. He will be riding in the lists." He paused, "Now your mother and I won't be able to attend, so I want you to follow Ulric and Arlan's directions to the letter. When it comes to the actual squiring, follow Arthur. You will find no better example of how to behave yourself."

"Neither mother or you will be able to attend?" Harry asked softly. He'd never been away from his parents for any extended period of time and didn't know how he would handle such a situation.

"It is for the best," Reynard comforted, "while you mother might not be from the nobility, she attended enough tourneys and balls during our time courting and our early married life that she could be recognized by the wrong person." He ran a hand through his dark hair, "I have no doubt that Lord Tywin will be in attendance along with his lady wife. While not on intimate terms with either of the pair, she met each multiple times and Tywin is not the sort of person to easily forget a face."

"Is it even safe for me to attend then father?" Harry asked cautiously.

"You have your mother's eyes and my hair Harrion but the rest of you is a balance between us." He shook his head slightly, "Some people might note your similar appearance but are unlikely to make any greater mention of it. They would be more likely to assume you a bastard of the Westerlands than son of an extinct and disgraced noble house."

"And what lie shall we be telling to ensure no one knows me?" Harry never much cared for hiding his identity but understood the necessity.

"The Dornish have always done things differently than the rest of the Kingdoms," Reynard began, "Should anyone actually care enough to ask, Arlan and Ulric will tell people that you are a street urchin who showed great promise with a blade in hand, who they stumbled upon defending another child. They decided your bravery should have been rewarded and made you a squire."

Harry didn't like being given credit for any sort of brave act he didn't actually perform but knew it was pointless to argue. _As for the story itself, stranger things have certainly happened. Ser Duncan the Tall went from a street urchin in Flea Bottom to Lord Commander of the Kingsguard._

Reynard started to get up to leave, having delivered the news he meant to. Harry decided now was the time to broach the subject of Ashara's attendance. He squared his shoulders and tightened his jaw, ready to argue even if it might not be the wisest thing to do, "Will Ashara be going too?"

Reynard chuckled as he turned back to his son, "I don't think so Harry. I believe Larra wishes for her to remain here."

"Then I don't want to go." Harry stated firmly.

Reynard frowned, "Harry you are to be Arlan's squire, just because your friend can't go is no reason for you to remain as well. You will be going, nothing more need be discussed on the matter." He turned to leave, thinking that the end of the conversation as Harry was never the sort to argue with either him or Lily.

"I promised," Harry said to Reynard's back loudly, "and I mean to keep that promise." He stood and looked his father in the eye as he once again turned to look at him, "Either Ashara goes as well, or I remain here with you and mother."

"That isn't your decision Harrion," Reynard said softly but with conviction, "Larra and Ulric decide whether their daughter can attend the tourney and we decide whether you do."

"So you would have me called a liar then, force me to go when I'm not truly needed?" He raised his chin in defiance. His father was thoroughly surprised by this argument but couldn't help a small bit of pride in his son considering his absolute dedication to his word.

"A child's promise to another child, made when you weren't free to make the decision." Reynard reasoned with his son even as he began to grow weary of the conversation, "She will forgive you when she realizes it wasn't something you could control."

"You won't even try then?" Harry asked with slightly more volume to his voice, "She is less than a year younger than me, she should attend if I can."

"Enough, Harrion Reyne!" Reynard boomed, causing Harry to look at him wide-eyed. He stepped over to his son and rested a hand on his shoulder, "I shall discuss the matter with Ulric, but should he be unconvinced you **will** travel to Ashford without Ashara and I will hear no more on the matter."

Harry's emerald eyes locked on his father's blue for a long moment. Reynard gave him a hard look, one that he hoped would bring this to an end but Harry just continued to look at him before finally nodding minutely, "Yes father." _I don't look forward to explaining this to Ashara but best to do it now._ "I would like to see if I might find Ashara. Hopefully she is done with her sewing." Reynard nodded and let him go, still slightly surprised by the whole exchange but willing to at least discuss the matter with his old friend.

Harry went in search of Ashara around the castle, finding her absent from both Larra's quarters where his mother and the Lady of Starfall were talking among themselves. They informed him they hadn't seen her in nearly half an hour. He spent another twenty minutes looking around their various haunts until he found her within the castle's library, sitting in one of the large comfortable chairs grabbing red grapes from a bowl as she read. The castles maester was pouring over a tome at the other side of the room. Harry had very little interaction with the old man since arriving at the castle as he spent most of his time in his own quarters.

As he approached Ashara noticed him and smiled shifting her body on the large chair so that he might sit beside her as was their habit; he did so with a smile. She offered him a grape which he took and quickly popped into his mouth. He glanced over at the book she was reading. It was a history of the Faith Militant Uprising, she was clearly curious about their most recent lessons from his mother.

She sighed and set the book down on the table beside her, "Your mum does a much better job of bringing history to life than the old maesters who wrote these books." They both heard a huff from the maester on the other side of the room but paid it little mind.

"Of course she does," Harry said as though that were absolutely obvious before frowning slightly as he remembered exactly why it was he sought her out.

"What is it?" She asked noticing his abrupt change in mood.

"My father just told me I will be attending the tourney at Ashford as Arlan's second squire." Harry said quietly.

"Right, we knew you would likely be going to the tourney… but what did you tell him?" Ashara whispered back.

"I told him I didn't wish to go if you wouldn't be going as well," Harry informed her causing a small smile to cross her face that quickly fell as he continued, "but he told me it wasn't my choice and that regardless of whether you attend or not, I will be going to Ashford."

"Right," she said sadly, "I suppose that makes sense but… you promised."

"And it is a promise I want to keep," Harry implored her, "but I have little say in the matter Ash." She nodded slightly, clearly upset with the news that he was likely to break his promise to her, "At least I managed to convince my father to talk to yours about the situation, so you might still be able to come."

This brightened her mood if only slightly, "You're right, there is still a hope."

"You're not mad at me, are you?" He asked cautiously.

Ashara looked at him, searching his eyes for a long moment with an openness that seemed to come far easier to children before finally speaking, "Yes and no," she smiled sadly, "I know that if it were only up to you, you would keep your promise without a second thought but it isn't up to you really." She shrugged her tiny shoulders, "I suppose it was a stupid promise, but I still can't help but feel a bit upset that I might be left alone here for over a month. It isn't a happy thought."

He leaned in and hugged his friend and after a moment's hesitation she returned the gesture, "Everything will work out, and you'll get to come along to Ashford. I'm sure of it." He sounded quite confident even if he didn't feel it in his heart. He made a solemn resolution, one that most children wouldn't even consider. He would endeavor to ensure he was never in a position where he gave a promise he could not keep of his own will. _Especially not to her._

* * *

Harry dipped out of the way of a slash, it skimmed over the top of his head and he could actually feel the blade of the great sword brush the very tips of his hair. He came up quickly and stabbed outward with the tip of his own blade; Arthur batted it away and brought his sword down in a quick vertical slash at Harry's shoulder. Harry brought his sword up and blocked the blow with a loud clang before it could meet his shoulder. The force of the hit shook Harry all the way to his knees and he had to give a conscious effort to make sure they didn't buckle. He tried to avoid parrying whenever he could, instead dodging, but it was unavoidable in that instance.

Harry no longer tried to fight with a shield, and the results spoke for themselves as he held his own far better with the increased speed it allowed him. _Of course, I still haven't even landed a blow on Arthur but… no better day than today._ The pair was alone in the yard, early in the morning. Harry usually didn't spend as much time there as the older boy but this morning he'd awoken early and felt the need to join Arthur.

With great effort Harry pushed up with his legs and threw Arthur's blade away from him, though it did little to bother the other boy as he quickly flowed into another attack, a quick strike aimed at Harry's abdomen. He jumped backward, the tip of the sword missing by mere inches. He quickly righted his footwork and guarded against a follow up stab toward his chest. It was at that moment that he managed to find an opening after his long defense and quickly brought his own blade to bear with an over-head slash. But it was only a feint as he changed his direction mid-strike. It was probably his single best move to date and Arthur fell for the initial attack and left his right side open to Harry's blow. Harry felt victory flow through his veins as his weapon make contact with the older boys ribcage and knocked him off balance, while simultaneously eliciting a grunt of pain.

The strike only seemed to spur Arthur onward though, and as Harry tried to push his momentary advantage Arthur countered bringing the padded greave on his forearm up to deflect the next hit before swinging his great-sword in a wide arc that just barely missed Harry's arm. Arthur then closed quickly, using his size to overwhelm the younger boy before grabbing the blade of his sword and leveraging the pommel so that he struck firmly at Harry's chest knocking him over. Harry was simply glad the blow hadn't been directed at his head. Before Harry could rise up to his feet he felt the dull tip of Arthur's sword pushed just below his throat.

They each heard clapping to their left drawing their gazes in that direction where Ulric, Arlan, and Reynard stood with some ten other men. Arthur leaned down and grabbed Harry's hand pulling him to his feet. They both removed the protective gear from their heads to reveal sweat drenched faces. Arthur smiled over at Harry before speaking in his still deepening voice, "Well done, you've grown ever closer to landing a hit since you stopped using a shield. It was good to see you finally manage it."

Harry smiled despite his sense of disappointment, "I failed miserably after that though, I couldn't press my advantage… even a little bit."

"But you had the advantage, even if only for a moment. With more time you'll know how best to take advantage of that moment, particularly with your speed."

Harry chuckled, "My speed? You are faster than I am and you wield a great sword."

Arthur just shook his head kindly, "I am no faster, just experienced Harrion. And as for the great sword, I have been training for years with the weapon in the hopes that one day Dawn will be strapped across my back." Harry had no doubt that Arthur would be the first Dayne since his father's namesake to hold the great-sword and title that went with it.

As they talked, their fathers approached and Ulric addressed them, "A good bout of fighting there boys." They both nodded their recognition, "I would say from the state of you two that you've been out here since near daybreak."

"That is correct father," Arthur answered, "I usually find myself alone that early in the morning but Harrion joined me today."

"I'm surprised," Reynard commented with a smile, "today is your name-day Harry; I would think you wanted to enjoy it away from the yard if you could."

Harry shook his head, "No, I wouldn't want to miss the opportunity to train and I found myself awake earlier than usual so decided I would join Arthur." The truth was Harry awoke in pain from a memory that wasn't his as his counterpart lay broken on the floor, his arm bent at an odd direction and bruises across his body. To Harrion's mind it seemed 'he'd' been punished simply for burning a rasher of bacon while cooking and because it had been 'his' birthday; something which the massively overweight bastard who assaulted him seemed to take as an offense.

Reynard smiled at his son, "Well, Ulric, Arthur, Arlan and I have a present for you." He noticed Arlan pull something out from behind his back covered by a silk purple clothe. Harry took it from him with a quiet thank you and removed the cover. Underneath was a dagger of some eighteen inches from pommel to tip, contained within a black leather scabbard. He pulled out the dagger and he could tell it was a fine piece of craftsmanship, made recently if he were to guess. The blade had a single fuller that led to a cross-guard adorned with a burst of stars in honor of House Dayne. The grip was wrapped in the same black leather as what was used for the scabbard. The pommel was adorned with what appeared to be a lion's claw.

He looked to those around him with a smile, "Thank you, truly. It is a wonderful gift."

Reynard gestured to Arlan and Arthur, "You can thank them for the dagger. You aren't experienced enough yet to carry an edged blade so they recommended this as an alternative."

"Ulric commissioned it and I recommended the design," He leaned down so he was closer to his son, "This is your first true home, so I thought the star bursts appropriate and I couldn't have the sigil of House Reyne placed on the blade so I thought a simple lion's paw was best."

Harry just smiled, "I think it's brilliant."

Everyone seemed happy at his reaction and Reynard quickly straightened up, "Well, you should go bathe before you break your fast otherwise your mother won't be happy, name-day or not." Harry did as his father bid, and a half an hour later found himself sitting beside Arthur and Ashara eating his early morning meal of eggs, bacon, and hash with a bit of honeyed milk to wash it down.

They quickly made their way to their morning lessons, Arthur with the maester while Ashara and Harry went with Larra and Lily. They discussed the laws put in place by Jaehaerys the Conciliator and how his sister-wife, Good Queen Alysanne affected both his lawmaking and overall reign.

"Jaehaerys is widely believed to be the best of the Targaryen monarchs; he put an end to the Faith Militant Uprising his uncle, Maegor the Cruel, exacerbated through violence, he put in place a legal code that is still in place to this day, he commissioned the building of the major roads that connect the Seven Kingdoms, and abolished the lord's right to the first night." Lily paused, "Though the last was at the urging of Queen Alysanne." Harry and Ashara were used to his mother wrapping up the lesson with a summary of the much more detailed things they'd discussed.

"He seems a much better king than Maegor to say the least," commented Harry as he stood to replace the books they'd taken from a shelf.

"And Maegor for all his faults was a much better king than Aegon IV," Larra commented from Lily's side.

"He legitimized his bastards and caused the Blackfyre Rebellions," Harry more stated than asked as he returned to his seat.

"Yes, but the Blackfyre line ended at the Stepstones when Ser Barristan Selmy killed Maelys the Monstrous." Larra replied, "Both your father's were there, and when the pair of you go to Ashford in a week you're likely to see Barristan the Bold with your own eyes."

Harry just smiled and nodded before the words registered in his head, he snapped his eyes over to Ashara whose face had gone blank as well before returning his attention to Larra who was smiling widely at him, "You're father told me of your promise, and I would not have you called a liar on my account. Arthur attended his first tourney at eight when he was younger than either of you." She shook her head, her silver blonde tresses spinning around her head lightly, "It didn't seem fair that I deprive Ashara of the opportunity. I figured your name-day would be the perfect time to tell you."

Harry couldn't be happier that Ashara would be going with to Ashford. She was bouncing with excitement and threw decorum out the window as she rushed her mother and hugged her with a muffled string of thanks. Harry smiled widely as his mother stood and walked to stand beside him, she leaned down and kissed him on the forehead, "I was quite proud of you when your father told me how concerned you were with keeping your word but quite upset when I heard how you voiced that concern." He lowered his eyes sheepishly but she grabbed his chin and brought his eyes up to meet hers, "Larra's reasons have always been because she wants Ashara safe, something that isn't always guaranteed in the throng and bustle of tourneys." She gave him a stern look, "You will look out for her when you are there."

Harry nodded firmly not even seeing it as a question but a simple statement of fact, "I will," then he chuckled slightly, "though I think she is as likely to look out for me as I am for her." Lily only laughed her agreement, as it probably wasn't far from the truth.

When finally they exited their lessons, it was near midday and the pair decided to make their way to the kitchens to see what they might scrounge up before they both went to the yard to train, he more with the sword and her with the bow.

"I'm so happy I get to go to the tourney," Ashara gushed unable to restrain her happiness. She hugged his side even as they continued walking, "It wouldn't have happened if you hadn't talked to your father; every time I tried bringing it up with my parents they waved me off."

"It will be quite the experience for both of us I think," Harry said with a smile remembering what his mother said, "But we will have to be safe."

"Of course," She said with a smile, patting the dagger on his hip with her hand, "You don't think you're the only one with a dagger." She lifted her skirts slightly to show Harry a blade strapped to her ankle, "Father got me the dagger about a year ago, and Arthur taught me how to use it. Mother wasn't happy about it at first but my father managed to convince her that even a seven year old could be attacked and he would be more comfortable if I had some way to defend myself." She lowered her skirts then, "It's quite common in Dorne for women and even young girls to have some sort of blade on them." Harry didn't respond but that bit of information did do quite a bit to calm whatever small nerves his mother had inspired with her warning.

Ashara was unaware of his internal issues as she leaned in to whisper despite being alone as they neared the kitchens, "Want to walk the bank of the river today and try to find a snake to talk to?" Harry just nodded excitedly as they stepped into the kitchen and were able to get some fresh bread, cheese, and fruit from them before heading outside to find a place to eat.

They ate quickly before heading into the yard where they each practiced for a couple of hours. When they finished they both cleaned themselves and Ashara changed herself into a pair of trousers and a light purple shirt before meeting at the gates and heading to the river.

"So, assuming we actually find a snake, what do you want me to ask it?" Harry questioned as they padded through the sand. Harry avoided kicking the sand this time lest he inadvertently put his friend's life in danger again.

Ashara smiled, "Anything… everything. Some of their life is probably quite boring, maybe even most their life… but come on they're snakes, they can get into places where people can't, maybe they've found something that no one else has in who knows how long."

Over the next two hours they encountered three snakes, the first of which was the same one they'd encountered five weeks prior. It attacked them almost immediately and Harry drove his new dagger through its head before it had the chance to bite either of them. They considered bringing it with them as snake was often eaten in Dorne but decided against it as it would greatly worry their mothers to know they were attacked by the poisonous reptile. The second snake they found was a young black adder, not even fully grown and seemingly unable to do anything but complain about a lack of mice around the sandy bank of the river with the same sort of broken speech they'd encountered in the first.

It was the third that proved interesting. It was a water snake they found near the edge of the river. It was older, far older than the others they encountered, and far more refined in its speech.

' _Hello,'_ Harry tried to gain the deep green snakes attention as he neared it as it milled about near the water's edge.

Its head popped up out of the water and slit yellow eyes appraised the two children before it with unblinking interest before looking at Harry with obvious surprise, ' _How do you speak the serpent's tongue human?'_

 _'I do not know snake but I can all the same, my friend and I thought it might be interesting to speak with a few of your kind.'_ Harry moved slightly closer though he gestured for Ashara to remain back in case things took a turn for the worst with this snake.

' _Ah, so you have met some of the other snakes that make their home along this river? I pity you. I do my best to avoid them if I can. Tell me speaker of my tongue, what is your name?'_ The snake swerved its way along the surface of the water and up onto the bank of the river just a few feet from Harry's feet.

' _My name is Harrion, and what is yours?'_ He explained.

 _'My name is Upir.'_ The snake coiled its tail up until its four foot body was compacted in a circle only nine inches in diameter, ' _Now what would you like to discuss?'_

' _Upir, out of curiosity why is it you seem so much more…'_ Harry was cut off by the snake.

' _More refined than the other snakes you have met?'_ Harry nodded, _'I am from a river in the jungles of the land to the east, born there some thirty years ago where I was captured and kept as a pet by one of the many merchants in that city.'_ The snake made a noise that Harry could only compare to a scoff or snort, ' _I have already long outlived any others you would find along this river. My age has allowed me greater intelligence than many of my brethren. On top of which, their speech lacks refinement because they are not so numerous in this area and they stay away from each other, so few have had the opportunity to get past voicing their basic instincts.'_

Harry turned to Ashara, "This one is different, older, and been here for some time. He is interesting to say the least."

Ashara nodded with a slightly dazed look on her face, "You know it is both amazing and creepy to sit here and watch you talk with a snake as though it were just some person in Starfall." She sat down in the grass, "but it is much more amazing than creepy."

Harry chuckled and sat down beside her as Upir remained where he'd rested in the sand, ' _My friend and I are both inquisitive by nature,'_ Harry began not sure how to explain why they'd really decided to do this, ' _when we learned of this ability of mine, we thought it might be fun to speak with a local snake. See if they might know some bit of history or some secret that we might not know.'_

Upir's tongue shot out from his mouth quickly, ' _I doubt I could tell you much history that you don't already know of this place. Most snakes do not live so long as humans and my own time here has been spent mostly away from them but secrets… I might have at least one of those that could interest you.'_

Harry quickly relayed the information to Ashara and uninhibited glee entered her eyes, "And he would be willing to tell us where this secret is without a price?"

Harry shrugged not having gotten that far, "He's a snake, I can't imagine what treasure or secret he might've found that would interest us and still be of any use to him." Ashara made a motion that clearly indicated he should simply ask.

' _What secret might you have that interests us?'_ Harry asked kindly, not wanting to seem as though he were making demands of the intelligent and so far friendly animal.

Upir rose up extending more of his body from the coil. He gestured his head further down the river, ' _Some three miles that way you will find two lone hills along the bank of the river, were you to dive into the river and swim at the point just between these two hills you would find an underwater cave. There is a ship there, an old ship as far as I can tell, and one that might interest you and your companion.'_ The snake finished by gesturing in Ashara's direction with his head.

Harry bowed his head in thanks, ' _Maybe we will search out this wreck in future, though for today,'_ he looked out to where the sun was setting over the hills behind him, ' _we should head back to the castle. Farewell, Upir.'_

 _'Farewell human, be careful should you visit that shipwreck. Not everything in the river is as friendly as me.'_ With that the snake uncoiled and made his way back toward the river he paused, ' _I remain along this stretch of the river most times these days; should you happen upon me again, some form of repayment for my kindness would be appreciated. I am quite the fan of mice when I can get them.'_

"So… what did he say?" Ashara asked as Harry stood up and helped her to her feet.

"There is a shipwreck in the river about three miles from here, an old shipwreck as far as he could tell. And he wouldn't be against me bringing him some mice if I could." He finished with a bit of a smirk as he looked to Ashara. He could see the eagerness in her eyes, her desire to go there now and see what they might find. If he was being honest with himself he wanted to go as well, but the sun was nearly down and their parents wouldn't appreciating them missing dinner let alone returning to the castle far later than that.

Ashara seemed to reach the same conclusion as she shuffled her feet before turning toward Starfall and heading in that direction, she grabbed his hand as she went. He couldn't help but notice how soft her smaller hand felt in his despite her time spent using the bow. "We can't go today, but we will soon." Ashara stated as she released his hand and let him walk of his own volition, "even if we have to wait until after the tourney." Harry had absolutely no disagreement with that decision.

They talked excitedly about what they might find when they went to search out the shipwreck until they arrived back to the castle. They only had just enough to time to wash up from their adventure before the evening meal without being late.

Their dinner consisted of snake grilled over a spit and spiced beautifully. Ashara and Harry shared a grin when they realized they could have very easily provided the evenings meal had they simply returned after their run in with the black and yellow snake. Arthur noticed the look but only raised an eyebrow before returning to his meal.

The snake was served with roasted leeks, shallots and carrots all grilled together and bit of Dornish red wine. Both Harry and Ashara were allowed a little more than usual given it was his name-day. For dessert Lily had gone to the kitchens herself and baked a tart that she knew Harry enjoyed. He found the honey filled cookie treat to be absolutely delicious and thanked his mother profusely both before and after his two slices of the tart.

When everyone was thoroughly satisfied with their meal the dishes were cleared and Harry made his way toward his room with Ashara just behind him. As they passed her room he bid her goodnight but she grabbed his arm before he could leave, "Wait here for a second?" She seemed… nervous almost, something he wasn't accustomed to seeing from her. Harry merely nodded his assent.

It only took a few moments before she reappeared from the other side of the doorway hiding something behind her back. Ashara shuffled her feet momentarily before suddenly thrusting whatever was in her hand in his direction with a mumbled, "For your name-day." She didn't look at him and he could see a slight tinge of red on her cheeks.

He took it the item in her proffered hand with a small smile though she didn't see it. The item wasn't wrapped and soft to the touch, silk fabric in fact. He unfurled the object and found himself looking at a deep red shirt, accented with lines of gold and silver near the wrists, neck and hem of the shirt. In detail, wrapped around the right arm of the shirt, was a black snake with green eyes.

Ashara broke his silent observation as a rush of words left her mouth, "It isn't much, I know, but I wanted to do something that would have your house colors on it but knew it wasn't safe to put the Reyne lion on it, so I decided on a snake instead because you can talk to them and all but I hope someday I might be able to make you one with your actual sigil on it but…"

Harry cut her off by leaning in and giving her a warm hug, one that he hoped conveyed how much her gift meant to him, "So you made this yourself?"

She nodded into his shoulder where she still hugged him, "The times I've been with my mother sewing, I've been working on this. I messed up the first try terribly, but I took my time with this one and I think it came out good."

"I think it's brilliant, thank you." The simple statement made her smile widely, her violet eyes shining with unrestrained satisfaction. She gave him one more hug far shorter than the one previous, and whispered her goodnight before heading into her room.

Harry walked slowly to his own quarters with Ashara's gift in hand, still with a slight smile on his face as he looked at it. A few short minutes later, he passed his parent's quarters and stopped momentarily, the smile on his face finally falling away completely.

He'd considered it for some time now and decided that now was the time to tell them, for better or worse, about his oddness. He hesitated a moment before walking further down the hall to his own room where he deposited the shirt in his hand before returning to the oaken door that barred entrance to his parent's quarters.

He took a deep breath before knocking firmly four times. There was a bustle on the other side of the door before, a few seconds later, his father's face came into view as the door opened. He wore only a loose white shirt and a pair of trousers with the laces undone. His mother stood further in the room, wearing a green robe.

His father noticed the look of concentration on his face immediately, "What is it Harry?"

"There is something I would like to tell you both." He couldn't keep the slight bit of nervousness from his voice. Reynard gave a small smile in the hopes of alleviating whatever caused Harry's distress before walking with him into the room. The older Reyne grabbed Lily's hand and pulled her to the bed where they both sat at its edge and gave Harry their undivided attention as he moved to stand in front of them.

"Alright Harry, what is it you want to tell us?" His mother asked with disguised concern. She couldn't imagine what would cause their son's current mood.

"I've been wanting to tell you this for a long time," Harry began, "I kept it a secret because I didn't even understand it at the time." They both furrowed their brows in confusion but waited for him to continue in silence. He spoke haltingly, "I… I can do things… things that don't make sense… things that no one else I know can do. I have done for… quite some time now." He looked away momentarily expecting some sort of reaction only to receive none. He returned his gaze to his parents who were looking at him expectantly, no longer with looks of confusion but with the hint of understanding.

Reynard hugged Lily's waist before speaking to Harry, "Please, continue son."

Harry nodded slightly, "The first vivid memory I have of doing something truly… odd was in Oldtown." He paused momentarily and took another breath, "That time with Alyse when all of the other kids said I pushed her out of the street when I wasn't even near her, I said I didn't know how it happened… or even what actually happened… but I lied." He finished sheepishly, not comfortable admitting his wrongdoing to his parents so he glossed over it and continued in a rush, "They were picking on her and I didn't like it, something just rose up inside me and suddenly it pushed outward and she went flying through the air and out of the way of the horse bearing down on her, and then she landed… as gently as a feather."

"So there was more truth to what the other children said than you let us believe, huh Harry?" Lily asked calmly to which he just nodded slowly, unsure how they might respond.

Lily and Reynard shared a look before his father spoke firmly, "We've always thought there was something different about you." Harry couldn't keep the absolute shock from his face, "We were only in Oldtown to try and acquire some sort of understanding about the things that seemed to happen around you." Reynard smiled slightly, "Trust me when I say that isn't the first time something unexplainable happened because of you. When you're older we'll explain in more detail but for now just know we had a feeling there was something unique about you."

"Did you learn anything?" Harry asked with a hint of excitement.

Lily shook her head, "No, Harry you seem entirely unique," both of his parents opened their arms for him to come sit by their side, "Our perfect, unique little boy." He quickly rushed into their embrace with a sense of immense relief. He knew he should have trusted his parents with his secret, but he'd seen the way his counterpart was treated thanks to the same gift. He'd felt that pain, and he had no interest in feeling that kind of rejection from his own parents. In the end, the loving nature of the pair and their stark differences from the horse-like woman and piggish man did a great deal to convince him telling them was the right thing.

They simply sat together in silence, as a family, for a few minutes until Reynard broke the moment, "Harry," he looked up to his father, "there haven't been any incidents with your abilities… your magic since we left Oldtown, do you know why?"

"Yes," Harry straightened up and looked around the room for something small and that he might use to demonstrate. He noticed his mother's hairbrush on her bureau nearby and focused. He twitched his fingers and it lifted from the flat surface and zoomed across the room and into his outstretched hand. Neither of his parents noticed the brush move at first and as a result stared in wide-eyed astonishment as it came to rest in his hands.

A mixture of emotion crossed their faces but it came to rest on what he could only describe as pride. Lily grabbed the hairbrush from his hand and set it beside her, "You've been learning to control it, that's why you haven't had any more incidents?"

Harry nodded as sudden realization dawned in Reynard's eyes, "That day when you were sweating in your room with the ball in hand, you weren't throwing it but moving it about without even touching it."

"It's how I've developed control," Harry said with a shrug, "it seems to work the same way as swordplay; the more I practice and exercise the muscles, the easier it becomes to control."

"Have you told anyone else about this Harry?" Lily asked nervously. After all, not everyone would be nearly as accepting of his difference. Some might try to take advantage of such ability while others might condemn it much the way the Faith condemns other forms of magic.

"Not about this specifically," Harry said evasively, unable to hold his mother's gaze.

"Harrion, what else are you capable of? And who knows about it?" His mother demanded of him.

Harry spoke quietly, "I can speak to snakes, and Ashara knows because she was there when I found out. A snake was about to attack her along the bank of the river and I called out but not in the Common Tongue."

Lily hummed to herself, "So that's why she decided to embroider your shirt with a snake."

She then looked over to Reynard and they seemed to share a conversation with mere looks after which, his father spoke, "We're glad you protected Ashara but it could be dangerous should you allow too many people to know your secret."

"Ashara would never tell anyone," Harry insisted but his father raised his hand to stop him.

"Maybe not intentionally but children let things slip that they don't mean to," he sighed, "There is no changing what's done, and while I don't think Ashara will ever tell anyone your secret, it would be best to keep this to yourself in the future." He noticed the frown that crossed Harry's face, "Not because it is anything to be ashamed of but because not everyone will react well to the information."

Harry contemplated his father's words with his brow furrowed before speaking slowly, "I think I understand."

"Good," Lily leaned in and kissed him on his forehead as his father gave his shoulder a firm squeeze, "Thank you for telling us the truth of this Harry, we've always had our suspicions but it is good to know for sure." He gave his mother a small smile which made her chuckled slightly. "Now it's getting late and you should be in bed. We can discuss it more thoroughly tomorrow." She patted him on his back, urging him up.

Harry stood and made his way to the door and with a final goodnight to his parents made his way back to his own room. As he lay down in bed he felt a sense of contentment knowing that his parents reacted even better than he'd hoped.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: It's been quite a while since I updated this story, and I really do apologize for that. I'll try to keep updates closer together in future.

As for the guest reviews:

coldblue: 1) You'll have to wait and see but it isn't what most people assume 2) He will likely use two swords, yes 3) Snake maybe, dragon almost definitely not 4&5) wait and see 6) If you look up fableblades and find one of the heron blades he made, you'll see what I have in mind.

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They traveled up the Torrentine via boat until they reached High Hermitage, the seat of the lesser branch of House Dayne, before heading east across the mountains on horse and into the Prince's Pass. There was a great deal of traffic along the path, mostly other Dornish nobles making their way north toward Ashford for the tourney. The Daynes were riding with three of their house guard and handmaiden, Harry was beside Arthur while Ashara was further ahead riding with her father. The little girl had been reluctant to sit astride a horse with her father, and Harry couldn't blame her considering he knew she was a capable rider for her age.

During their journey they saw the rayonne yellow on crimson of House Uller, the golden quill on checkered green of House Jordayne, the red cockatrice devouring a black snake on gold of House Gargalen, the hooded blue hawk on silver of House Fowler, the golden hand on red and black of House Allyrion and even the pierced red sun on orange of House Martell.

Arthur seemed surprised to see the sigil of Dorne's Great House and Harry couldn't help but question him about it. The young Dayne shook his head looking ahead as he cantered along on his horse, "I have yet to see the Martell's at any of the tourneys we've attended," he explained casually, "Prince Doran is of an age with Arlan but hasn't participated in the lists in some time. I recall father telling me that he has been traveling the Free Cities of late… so I suppose that isn't surprising."

"But it is surprising that you haven't seen Prince Oberyn at any tourney as of yet, does he not foster with the Yronwoods?" Harry questioned.

Arthur looked to him with a raised eyebrow, "You are correct, but still the Yronwoods rarely travel to the tourneys as their own Lord takes little interest in them. I must admit I have seen Oberyn at a distance just once but this is still the first time I have seen the Martell banner heading to one of the events."

"That is odd, isn't it?" Harry's gaze lingered on the Martell banner further down the pass.

"You assume because they are a Great House they would wish to make themselves seen at such spectacles?" Harry nodded slowly, "Well you would often be correct, though the Martells and Starks are certainly less concerned about such things. " He added the last offhandedly, "Still, you are forgetting that our most recent winter has only just passed and it lasted some two years. There was only one tourney in the capital in that time."

"That hadn't occurred to me." Harry admitted with a slight twinge of red on his cheeks.

Arthur clapped him on the shoulder good-naturedly, "You must remember that the Princess Aliandra has no reason to attend given her eldest son is abroad and her youngest is fostered by another lord. That leaves only her daughter Elia, and unless they are seeking out a match for their children she would have little reason to attend."

"Do you think that is why they are attending now?" Harry asked curiously.

Arthur shrugged, "It wouldn't surprise me but this tourney is rather larger than most and the first since the spring began so there is no guarantee."

They fell into a companionable silence until, a short while later, Harry decided to push his horse up alongside Ulric and the still slightly disgruntled Ashara. Ulric had reasoned that it would be safer for Ashara to ride with him. _And it was likely for the safety of others as much as hers._

Ashara's eyes brightened when she saw him, "Finished talking with Arthur?" Harry shrugged noncommittally but she took it as an affirmative, "Good, because I have been terribly bored without you."

Her father snorted and ruffled her hair much to her dismay, "It is good to know how little you think of my company daughter. I shall remember that come your next name day I think."

She straightened her hair before turning to him with shiny violet eyes and a protruding lower lip. Her father couldn't help but wilt under the pressure, "I am only teasing." She smiled widely at her father even as he muttered under his breath, "You've learned that look far too well from your mother."

Despite Ulric's best efforts, Harry heard him and he couldn't help but chuckle. Ulric turned to Harry with a smirk on his face and warned, "Just you wait."

"Wait?" Harry said incredulously, "She can do that to me now. I just found it refreshing to see it happen to someone else."

Ulric barked a laugh, "Suppose you're just happy to know it isn't just your weakness then?" Harry nodded his head, "Well trust me, you aren't the first to fall victim to those eyes and I doubt you will be the last."

Ashara didn't seem to like being talked about as though she wasn't even there and huffed irritably to Harry's amusement. She looked to him, "So... are you excited for the tourney?"

"Of course," Harry answered immediately though in all honesty he was equal parts anxious and nervous. He'd never been to a tourney before and he certainly didn't want to muck it up at Arlan's detriment. _Thank the gods that Arthur will be there to make sure I don't make too big a fool of myself._

"I just want us to get there already," Ashara said vehemently, breaking him out of his thoughts.

Harry couldn't help but laugh at her. He'd traveled far more in his young life than she ever had, so the monotony of travel didn't bother him much at all really. On the other hand, Ashara wished she could simply arrive in Ashford. "Clearly in all of your excitement for the coming tourney, you forgot that we would actually have to travel there, or maybe it's that you thought we would be able to arrive there out of thin air… without all the days of baking in the sun?" He asked her cheekily.

She scowled at him, " **Obviously** , I knew that we would need to **travel** to Ashford but that doesn't mean I have to like the boredom that comes along with it."

Ulric ran a hand through her thick hair, this time being sure not to muss it up, "Perhaps you will remember this the next time you want to go to a tourney. Because if I recall, you were most eager for this before we left."

"I am still eager," Ashara said huffily, "that's the problem. We still have days before we're actually there."

"Well let's just hope that the tourney is everything you hope it to be, Ash," Harry told her kindly, not noticing the odd look he got from her father at his shortened name for her, "that ought to be enough to make up for the boredom the journey has caused you."

"It better be everything I hope it to be," Ashara said dramatically with her nose raised in the air, "otherwise I shan't be attending a tourney ever again." Ulric groaned, knowing that someday she would need to attend events such of these for the sake of appearances. Ashara turned to Harry with a mischievous glint in her eye and winked at him. He couldn't help but chuckle internally at her bit of acting. _She can be quite the little devil when she wants to be. It certainly helps with the boredom though._

(Scene Break)

They arrived at Ashford three days later on a bright day, early in the morning. The castle and town sat at a ford of the Cockleswent River. The town was made up of narrowly separated, thatched roof, white-washed houses and stores. The castle jutted up above the town. It was fashioned in the shape of a triangle, its three round towers standing some thirty feet high, with long expanses of crenelated walls running between them. The Daynes made their way through the city with a retinue of other nobles. As they passed, there were dozens of smallfolk standing along the cobbled streets of the town, watching as the lords, ladies and knights moved through.

Despite his own high birth, Harry felt distinctly out of place. Most of his life to this point was spent on the run with his family, hiding their identities and ensuring that no one recognized them. To feel dozens, and even hundreds of eyes, with their focus fixed on him as he passed just felt wrong. _It's certainly nothing like the anonymity I'm accustomed to._

The town was neither particularly large nor particularly small, and a short while later they found themselves crossing over the Cockleswent and headed toward Ashford Meadow. The meadow usually served as a commons ground for the smallfolk but now it was covered in dozens upon dozens of multicolored tents.

They passed the palisades around the jousting area, including the large viewing gallery for the noble ladies and those lords who wouldn't be participating in the lists. He also noticed a fenced off area meant for the melee and a smaller area for the archery contest. As they made their way through the encampment, Harry couldn't help but note that five of the Great Houses were present at this tourney: Martell, Lannister, Tyrell, Baratheon and Targaryen. _I doubt any Targaryens will participate in the lists but the other four should have at least one of their number competing._

A short while later, they stopped and set up their own tents for the event. One for the guards, one for Ashara n and the handmaiden, one for Arthur and Harry, and one that would accommodate the elder Daynes. So, while many of the other nobles relied on their servants to set up their accommodations for the coming days the Daynes did it almost entirely themselves. They set up between a tent baring the white seahorse on turquoise of House Velaryon and the dark green sea-turtle on pale green of House Estermont.

They were able to get themselves settled quickly enough, and just an hour after their arrival in the camp Ashara was standing in Harry and Arthur's tent peering out the flap eagerly, Arthur had gone with his brother to put the heir of Starfall's name into the lists while Harry had remained behind. He stood from his cot and walked over to Ashara, "Well, what do you think of it so far?"

"I think it's fantastic," Ashara said happily, as they watched the armor clad knights walk past their tents unaware of their observers, "the hustle and bustle is nice but you can almost feel the excitement and anticipation in the air."

Harry smiled down at her, her enthusiasm simply infectious, "It is something Ash, though I could have done without all of the eyes on us on the way in."

She wrinkled her nose, "I didn't much like that either. I'm not used to that at all. The people at Starfall don't gawk at us when we pass. I really can't imagine why the people of Ashford would."

"They gawk because we are nobles from a different part of the country, clad in finery they would have to work a year to even be able to consider affording," Arlan's voice startled them as he passed by with Arthur in tow toward Ulric's tent, "In time you will grow accustom to the stares."

Harry shook his head, his eyes following the elder Daynes as they passed by, "I don't think I'll ever become comfortable with that."

"No one said you needed to be comfortable with it, silly." Ashara said with a huff, "You just have to learn to ignore it. Or do you never plan on participating in the lists?"

"I probably will someday," Harry said thoughtfully, "but I certainly want to take part in the melees when I get older." While he could ride well enough, and had practiced with the lance more than once, he much preferred fighting on his feet with sword in hand.

Ashara giggled, "Well then, I suppose you are going to need to get over your fear of attention."

"It's not a fear," Harry defended himself a little heatedly, before his voice quieted as he continued, "I'm just accustomed to trying to stay beneath peoples' attention."

Ashara bowed her head, understanding filling her eyes, her cheek s flushing slightly in embarrassment at his unintended rebuke, "Apologies, Harrion, I didn't mean anything by my comment."

He leaned over and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, "It's alright Ash."

She smiled up at him though it didn't reach her eyes, "Still, I'm sorry Harry. I really just wasn't thinking about what might be causing your discomfort." She pulled away from him, "It makes sense, but I'm sure you'll get over it in time."

"Well with your confidence and Arthur there to help me along, it shouldn't take long at all." Harry reassured her.

He was rewarded with a genuine smile, "So… do you want to look around the camp with me?"

His response was to, quite suddenly, grab her hand and pull her toward the guard's tent. She followed after him without any struggle, too surprised at his forwardness. They pushed through the flap of the tent and Harry turned to the one of the guards, Lucas, a man of medium height with an olive complexion and dark hair "Lucas, the Lady Ashara would like to walk the tourney grounds and the town nearby."

Lucas looked to the young lady in question wearily, "Lady Ashara, the tourney shall be starting in just a few short hours, would it not be better to rest before the festivities begin?"

"As you said, Lucas, the tourney doesn't start for hours yet and I have had enough of tents these past few days. I would rather look around than spend my time lazing about any longer." For all of her, and the Daynes in general, usual friendliness with those who serve her, she was quite capable of falling into the role of a little lady with ease when it suited her.

Lucas sighed lightly and nodded at the pair before standing, "Very well, my Lady, I shall escort you then."

Lucas grabbed his weapon from where it rested near his cot and joined them as they made their way out of the tent. As Ashara walked slightly ahead of them, Harry smirked up at the guard, "Just be glad I decided to come and get one of you; otherwise, I have no doubt I would be the only thing looking out for Ashara, which would have made Lord Dayne… well less than happy to say the least." Lucas suddenly looked far more at ease with his unexpected task.

Harry increased his pace and was beside Ashara just a moment later. They traveled through the camp slowly taking in everything they could. They passed the royal tent, and Harry couldn't help but stare for a moment at the sight of Ser Gerold Hightower and Ser Barristan Selmy standing steadfast outside of the tent, clad in their white-enameled armor, and their hands on their swords. The Lord Commander was a massive man, and even in his armor one could understand why he was given the moniker the White Bull. _I doubt there are many men in the kingdom as strong as Ser Gerold._ Ser Barristan the Bold was not as large as his commander but equally as impressive. His blue eyes scanned the throng of people before him, constantly vigilant. For just a moment, Ser Barristan's blue eyes locked with Harry's green and he could have sworn that he noticed the barest of nods from the famous knight before his gaze fell on Ashara beside him and lingered just a moment before he continued to scan the crowd.

Ashara leaned over to whisper to him, "Someday, Arthur will be able to count himself among the Kingsguard."

"He'll be the very best of them if he has his way," Harry agreed easily. There was little doubt in his mind that his elder friend would one day be recognized as one of the greatest knight in the realm.

"It's quite the honor being a member of the Kingsguard," Ashara continued airily, "Have you ever considered it as something you would wish to do in the future?"

Harry actually resisted the urge to shudder at the thought. He respected Arthur's goal in life, to be the very best knight and serve as a member of the Kingsguard, but that wasn't for Harry. He had other desires, none of which required his taking a vow of celibacy and defending a man who may or may not be worthy of protection. He looked at Ashara, his emerald green eyes meeting her violet purple ones, "No Ash, I have no desire to become a member of the Kingsguard." Her expression was blank but he could see satisfaction in her eyes, "I hope to be an accomplished knight in time, but… that life would never be something I desire."

"I'm sure that Arthur will be rather put out that he will never be able to count you among his sworn brothers," Ashara said gaily.

"I'm sure he'll be absolutely devastated," Harry deadpanned, "so much so that he'll give up the pursuit and turn to drink." Ashara stared at him wide eyed for a moment before laughing loudly and drawing the attention of those around them. Harry couldn't help but find her glee infectious and chuckle right along with her as they continued walking along the dirt path.

A few short moments later, she righted herself with a deep breath and looked to Harry, "I'm sorry, I just imagined Arthur forlornly sharpening his sword all hours of the day with a bottle of Dornish red as he lamented your decision." She shook her head, "It was so completely out of place for my brother that I couldn't help myself."

"So out of place in fact, that I think it would be more likely that Arthur take up the life of a Septon." Harry quipped, causing both Ashara and Lucas behind them to snort in disbelief.

A short way from the royal tent was that of House Lannister. _Unsurprising considering Tywin's position as Hand of the King._ Harry didn't happen to see the Lord of the Rock but he did see two children, one a boy and one a girl, milling about outside of the tent. They were both dressed in the finest of silk clothing, colored the red and gold of their house. Both had bright green eyes and the golden hair synonymous with their House. Based on their similar appearance, Harry would guess that they were Lord Tywin's twins, Cersei and Jaime. As they passed, a woman with a kind and beautiful face, dressed in a red silk dress that hugged tightly to her body, exited the tent and commanded the children inside, she had the same green eyes and golden hair. _Clearly that is the Lady Joanna._

Harry and Ashara continued along, passing the tents of the Tyrells. Outside the tent, the Lady Olenna was directing some of their servants about their business. He had very few memories of the woman but he knew that the Lady Tyrell was a friend of his mother's and had aided them for a time after their flight from the Westerlands. She caught sight of him as they passed and her intelligent eyes narrowed in suspicion or recognition, he really couldn't tell for sure. Fortunately, he was spared any further scrutiny as she was approached by a Hightower knight, and someone Harry could only assume was the Heir of Highgarden, Mace Tyrell.

As they drew closer to the jousting area again the throng of people increased as the smallfolk were already flooding into the stands in the hopes of being able to get the best possible seat to view the coming spectacle.

There were merchants peddling their wares all along the road there. Many of them were bakers selling sweet treats, but there were others: butchers selling cooked meats, blacksmiths trying to interest passing knights, mostly hedge knights, in their wares, jewelers and gardeners alike trying desperately to coerce passing men to buy something for their ladies.

They stopped and bought some pastries from one of the bakers. From there they perused the jeweler's wares as well; Ashara seemed particularly interested in a silver armband decorated with intertwining snakes all around the polished metal. It fit around her forearm comfortably, though it covered far more of it than was probably intended. But in the end, she turned away and headed further down the lane of merchants as Harry lingered. _Her name day is coming up soon, and I certainly don't have the talent at sowing to actually make something for her._

"Excuse me?" Harry drew the attention of the thin, balding jeweler in the stall, "How much for that?" He pointed to the piece of jewelry that had drawn Ashara's attention.

The man came over to Harry and looked down at him skeptically, "It's pure silver." He told Harry as he ran a finger over the piece, "I'm afraid I couldn't sell it for less than twenty stags, as it cost half that to make."

Harry hesitated a moment. Through various chores he'd done his parents had given him some ten silver stags over the years. He wouldn't have enough if it weren't for the extra fifteen Larra gifted him before their departure. _Well, it's more than enough to buy the band, and it will make Ash happy, so why not?_ His hand went to the pouch at his hip, and he quickly retrieved the necessary coins. The shop keeper looked surprised that he could actually afford the piece but quickly handed over the armband.

Harry thanked him, before walking over to the florist nearby and buying a single violet for just a few copper pennies. He turned away from the stall and looked for Ashara only to realize she'd moved out of sight in his inattentiveness. He looked for Lucas as well, but couldn't see the man anywhere either. He felt panic well up in his chest and started walking quickly down the path. _I was to look out for her, I promised my mother and now I've no idea where she is._

He spent three minutes almost frantically walking along the path, but his panic quickly abated when he found her speaking with some of the local children amicably. Unlike the other highborn children Harry and Ashara had opted for simple leather trousers and cotton shirts instead of the silk, so common among the highborn. As such the children had no thought toward Ashara being nobility.

Lucas was watching her from a comfortable distance away, clearly not wanting to intrude but ready should things take an unexpected turn. Ashara noticed him and grabbed his arm to introduce him to her new acquaintances, "This is Eve, Davin, Alan, Morra, and Theo, everybody this is Harry." Harry could only be internally baffled at Ashara's ability to become so easily acquainted with complete strangers. They all exchanged greetings before Ashara turned to Harry with a smile, "They were planning on playing Knights and Knaves, would you like to join?"

Harry shook his head slightly and leaned in to whisper to Ashara, "We should really be getting back to the tent. You need to change into a dress and I need to help Arthur with Arlan's armor."

She pouted at him but to no avail, after a long moment in which he just stared at her expectantly, she huffed before speaking to the other children, "The tourney shall be starting soon and we don't want to miss it, perhaps tomorrow instead?" There was general agreement among the other children as Harry and Ashara turned to make their way back toward their tent.

They took only a dozen steps when Ashara posed a puzzled question, "What is that in your hand?" He looked down in confusion, not sure what she was talking about after his brief panic, when he was quickly reminded of his purchases.

"Oh," He flushed under her searching gaze, "umm, your name day is coming soon so…" he pushed the armband and flower in her direction, "I thought I would get you something. You sewed me that shirt all by yourself, and it was wonderful, so it would have felt wrong if I didn't get you something in return." He trailed off then as he realized that Ashara stopped listening to him, instead she was staring at his gifts as they continued to walk. He was waiting for some sort of reaction.

She took the armband and fixed it to her forearm silently and then took the violet and weaved it into her raven hair. When finished, she smiled wider than he'd ever seen and her stride took on a skip like nature as she wrapped her arm around him in her best attempt at a hug while walking, "Thank you Harry, it's wonderful." She fixed him with a mock glare, "But you really didn't have to get me anything. If it weren't for you I wouldn't have been allowed to come to the tourney."

Harry smirked and she seemed to know some sort of teasing was coming her way, "Oh, well if that's the case, you won't mind if I just take that back then now will you?" He made to grab for her arm.

She pulled it away with a gasped, "NO!" and started running away from him with a giggle. A moment later, he was on her heels, never really trying to catch her though. They made their way through the camp, laughing as Lucas trailed behind them at a light jog. They ran until they arrived outside of their own tents again. At which point, they stopped dead in their tracks upon seeing that a Kingsguard, one Lewyn Martell, stood outside the tent Harry and Arthur were sharing

"Right," Ashara drew his attention, "I need to go change into a dress like you said." She leaned over and gave him a proper hug in thanks for her gift and made her way into her own tent meeting Ser Lewyn's gaze for only a moment as she passed him and looking over her shoulder to give Harry a wry smirk.

Harry scowled at her in return before squaring his shoulders and making his way toward his own tent. Ser Lewyn had tanned skin, light brown eyes, a closely trimmed beard and thin lips. His gaze never left Harry as he drew nearer to the tent and when he was just a few steps away, Ser Lewyn's voice brought him to a stop, "And who might you be?" His voice held a note of humor to it.

Harry had trouble finding his voice for just a moment, "I am Harry, one of Ser Arlan's squires."

"Ah yes," Ser Lewyn pointed a gauntleted hand at him, "Lord Ulric was telling me of you, the street urchin turned squire." He rubbed his hand through his beard, "I must say that is quite the tale," There was a note of skepticism in his voice, "one that someday could be worthy of song if you manage to make something of your life."

"I am indebted to the Daynes for the opportunity they've given me," Harry told the knight earnestly, "I can only hope to someday, as you said, make something of myself as way of repaying them for their kindness."

"I doubt all of your reasons are so selfless." Lewyn smirked down at Harry though the comment went right over the young boy's head. The Martell knight laughed to himself and stepped aside, "I imagine you wish to prepare yourself before the tourney starts," his voice turned hard as he continued, "behave yourself in the presence of the Prince."

Harry nodded his understanding and pushed aside the tent flap. Inside, Arthur stood while the Crown Prince, Rhaegar Targaryen sat in a chair in their small quarters. The Prince was a lean youth eleven years of age. He was clad in black leather trousers and a red tunic, his family colors. He wore his silver blond hair in a braid that fell just below his shoulders. His eyes were the deepest shade of indigo Harry had ever seen, deeper even than Arthur's own. The pair was talking amicably, and while the Prince didn't smile it was clear that he enjoyed Arthur's company. While Arthur rarely talked about it, Ashara divulged to Harry that Arthur had developed a friendship with Rhaegar at the previous tourneys they'd attended together; supposedly he was the closest of the Prince's friends.

The pair stopped speaking as they noticed Harry enter the tent. Harry resisted the urge to flush under their scrutiny. Bowing his head, he spoke clearly, "Your Grace, it is an honor to meet you."

Rhaegar stood, and Harry couldn't help but note he was tall for his age not quite as tall as Arthur but tall nonetheless. He made his way toward Harry and looked him over, "Harry, I presume. Arthur was telling me about you," his voice was quiet with a hint of curiosity in it, "He says you are quite skilled with a blade in hand, something he knows better than I would." He paused the briefly, in silent contemplation of whether to make his next demand, "Tell me, in your own words, how is it that you came to be among the Daynes? I do not mean to be rude but I found your story quite intriguing."

Harry looked at Rhaegar wide-eyed. He hadn't expected he would have to tell a false story straight to the crown prince. _Though I suppose it's better I tell it to Rhaegar than the King, or worse yet Lord Tywin._

Harry began with the faintest of tremors in is voice, "Arthur's estimation of my skill is overgenerous your Grace." He deflected for a moment as he collected himself for the coming lie, "But you asked about my story, you Grace. My father, James and mother, Lily," they'd decided there was no harm in using his mother's actual name and it would be one less detail to remember, "were from the Westerlands. I lived there for only two years of my life, I imagine for that time I was quite happy with them but my father was murdered and my mother was taken by a summer fever."

"I am sorry for your loss," Rhaegar sounded like he genuinely sympathized with his fake plight.

"Thank you, your Grace." Harry continued on his story, "My father he was traveling from their home in Oxcross, and taking the road to Lannisport. He was a potter you see, and he could usually have a better fortune selling his wares there."

Rhaegar nodded his understand, as Harry swallowed before continuing, "He was waylaid by a group of bandits on the road." He paused and actually managed a hint of wetness in his eyes as he thought of his alternative self, "My mother was grief-stricken, and in her grief she was that much more open to sickness."

"I must ask," Rhaegar interjected, "How is it that you know all of this, being orphaned so young?"

"My mother, she sent me to live with her sister who lived along the Torrentine and sent with me a letter detailing their misfortune… and their love for me." Harry looked behind Rhaegar to Arthur, who looked thoroughly impressed with his story weaving. _Hmmm, flabbergasted might be the best word for it._

"My aunt and uncle," Harry spat the words, "Truthfully they wanted nothing to do with me, and treated me little better than a slave. My cousin would gather his group of friends and go 'Harry hunting'… it was truly unpleasant." Rhaegar's lips thinned at this but he didn't comment, "At the age of seven, I decided that I would be better off fending for myself somewhere else, and if that meant stealing so be it." Rhaegar looked torn at that declaration but he didn't have the experience necessary to refute Harry.

It was then that Arthur interjected, "Fortunately it didn't come to such drastic measures. Harry made his way down the Torrentine to Starfall, and my father happened to take pity after watching him defend another child from a group of tormentors."

Rhaegar smiled faintly at his friend before his gaze returned to Harry, "Well it seems a fitting reward for both the hardships you have faced and the courage you showed, Harry." He stepped around him and toward the tent flap but not before a few parting words, "Arthur also tells me that you are quite the reader," Harry couldn't help but nod at that, "We will have to speak more in the future then. I am prone to losing myself in books as well." With that he bid Harry and Arthur farewell and made his way out of the tent.

Harry turned to Arthur and resisted the urge to laugh at his slack-jawed expression. _Well that is a look I've yet to see on him. I doubt it could look anymore out of place._ Arthur's attention began to wear thin on Harry's patience and eventually he just asked, "What?!" loudly in the hopes that it would break him from his daze.

Arthur shook himself and started chuckling, "I'm beginning to think that perhaps you should give up learning the sword, Harry. For all of your talent, I think maybe you would be better suited to being a mummer because that… that story fell from your lips as though it were the Seven's only truth."

Harry shrugged nonchalantly, "I practiced the story at least a hundred times in my head during our journey here." Truthfully the tale just came naturally to Harry, while it had been put together with Ulric's help, almost all of it had been Harry's doing.

While his own parents were alive, lovingly taking care of him his entire life, he'd experienced the type of loss and neglect he'd concocted in his false history. He'd felt the loneliness of his counterpart as he lived friendless thanks to Dudley's intervention. He experienced the nightmare of watching a woman that looked eerily like his own mother, as she was murdered before his infant eyes. He knew his counterparts name, Harry Potter, so it only seemed natural to use that as his father's profession, and the name James just seemed right as well. In the end, he told a story that was part truth and part lie, it just wasn't a truth of his past but someone else's.

Harry pushed those thoughts from his head and smirked in Arthur's direction, "A mummer? Really? I did not know you were keen on drinking… and before noon too." Harry shook his head in disappointment, "Tsk, tsk, what would your mother say?" Harry dodged the pillow that was hurled at his head and the pair started laughing as they prepared to leave the tent.

They found Arlan and made their way toward the jousting area. They helped him into his armor. His pauldrons depicted the crossed shooting star and sword of their house, as did the lilac tunic he wore over his chestpiece. He wore a great helm, with just two narrow slits to see through. His shield was made from polished white oak. Harry couldn't help but find the armor cumbersome in nature. _As Arthur said, my advantage in battle comes from speed; such heavy armor would be of no benefit to me in a fight… Not that it really matters, I am years away from finding myself of an age to take part in a proper battle._

Once all was done, Arlan mounted his black destrier. Together, the many knights and lords participating in the tourney made their way out and around the arena to the cheers of the crowd. Most notable of the participants were the entirety of Aerys' Kingsguard of whom Rhaegar was serving as Prince Lewyn's squire, Lord Steffon Baratheon, all three of Tywin's brothers, Luthor and Moryn Tyrell, and Lord Leyton Hightower, for whom Mance squired. There were many other knights and lords participating as well, there were even a handful of hedge knights who looked out of place among the other participants.

As this was to be a three day tournament, the first day was meant to reduce the field to just sixty-four competitors from the over two-hundred entrants. The tourney was a celebration of the new spring. As such, there was no reigning 'queen of love and beauty' and no champions to defend her so, the opening tilts were decided by a draw instead of by challenge. Arlan found himself paired against Lord Ormond Yronwood, one of his squires being Prince Oberyn. The Heir of the Stone Way was clad in shimmering steel armor. Over the top of his armor he wore a white tunic depicting the sigil of his house, an iron portcullis. Theirs was to be the third match of the first round of jousts.

As they waited in the competitor's area, Harry's eyes scanned the crowd. He first sought out the royal viewing section, wherein sat King Aerys, Queen Rhaella, Lord Tywin, Lady Joanna with their Twins, and Lord Arron Ashford as host of the event with his wife and young son. Nearby were the Lady Cassana Baratheon with her son youngest son Stannis, Princess Aliandra with her daughter Elia, and the Lady Olenna with her daughters. Ulric was seated closer to the arena with Ashara close to his side. He was speaking to a man with the seahorse of house Velaryon on his coat, likely his good-brother and master of ships, Lord Lucerys.

The king was handsome, much like his son, though there was a slight gauntness to his cheeks that wasn't present in the younger Targaryen. He wore his silver blonde hair loose, as it fell down past his shoulders. He was in a conversation with Tywin, but his lilac eyes kept darting in the direction of Joanna. _She looks… distinctly uncomfortable with his attentions._

The Queen sat rigidly in her seat, her own violet eyes looking steadily at the action down on the field as the tilts took place. The entire kingdom knew that her marriage to her brother had never been a happy one, and it was clear she had grown accustomed to her husband's wandering eye. It was quite well known that Rhaella had dismissed Joanna as a handmaiden to save her from Aerys pursuits. In all honesty, almost everyone, Harry included, were surprised by the Queen's presence. Only two months prior their second son, Daeron, died in his crib only six months old. She looked thin to the eye, and her eyes were drawn. _No doubt she still keenly feels her loss._

It was only after surveying the royal couple that Harry's gaze fell to the Lord of Casterly Rock. _So that is the man responsible for my family's ruin._ Truthfully, the man looked the part of a victorious commander. His face was grim and his eyes hard even as he had a softly spoken conversation with the king. As he watched Tywin turned from the King, his conversation done, and looked to his wife. They shared whispered words, and in that moment, Harry watched as one of the most feared lords in Westeros, softened. It was minute, yes, but it was clear just how much he cared for his wife. _What would he do if he found out my family survived?_ Based on the look of him, Harry had no doubt that it would be far from pleasant.

The first of the matches finished then, as Lord Steffon unhorsed a hedge knight. They broke just three lances against one another. The Lord of Storm's end threw the man from his horse with a lance that shattered against the hedge knight's helm.

His eyes moved to the Princess Aliandra. She was of an age with Ulric, easily in her early fifties. She was diminutive in stature, barely taller than five feet. Her once dark hair had turned mostly gray and fell to her mid back in a long braid. Her eyes were a honey brown, she was speaking with the Lady Cassana, and Harry couldn't help but feel his thought the other day was true. _She has only attended in the hope of discussing matches for her children._

Just next to her was the Princess Elia, a young woman at thirteen years of age wearing a short-sleeve yellow dress that hugged to her lithe body. She had a gentle sort of beauty to her, less striking to the eye but beautiful all the same. Her eyes were dark, almost black but they had a softness to them. She wore her dark hair in a single braid that draped across her shoulder. She was sparing a wave for her brother on the other side of the arena. Harry glanced briefly in Arthur's direction and he couldn't help but notice that the older boy's gaze kept flitting back to the princess.

Lady Olenna looked entirely disinterested in the entire event and was instead paying more attention to her daughters and a conversation she was having with Lady Rylene Florent. _Mum always did say that she found most men, and the games they play, to be oafish_.

Lord Velaryon had the same silver-blonde hair and lilac eyes as his sister though, unlike his sister, he had a closely trimmed goatee. His skin was deeply tanned and even from a distance one could see the worn look of his hands. _He didn't just become the Master of Ships by grace of his name and relationship with the Targaryens. He must have spent his fair share of time on the deck of a ship to have hands like that._ His arms were well muscled, from pulling ropes in his time. He and Ulric were having a conversation of a clearly happy nature as both were smiling.

Ashara had changed from her leather trousers and cotton shirt into an embroidered silk dress, the same vibrant shade of violet as the flower in her hair and accented with silver. Her hair hung in loose curls around her shoulders. The only piece of jewelry she wore was her recent gift. It never ceased to amaze him how easily she was able to shift from one role to another. She must have felt his gaze on her because she shifted her eyes from the joust taking place and looked to him. She waved gracefully at him, her mother's tutelage not allowing her to be as enthusiastic as she would prefer, which he happily returned.

The second match lasted longer than the first. Ser Moryn Tyrell was matched against Prince Lewyn Martell, a rather contentious match given the prior animosity between the Reach and Dorne. Lewyn broke seven lances against Moryn, and in the end unseated him from his horse. The Tyrell knight put up a good show but in the end the Kingsguard was the superior rider.

As the crowd loudly cheered for the spectacle before them, Harry ceased his scanning of the crowd and returned his attention to Arthur and Arlan. He'd seen Arthur focused many times in the yard but now, he was all business as he addressed Harry, "Grab one of the lances. I'll get the shield." Harry did as instructed without word and quickly made his way to the stand that held the lances and back. He handed it up to Arlan. The eldest Dayne's face was hidden behind his great helm, but he did nod down at Harry in approval. With that he made his way out into the arena and was greeted with the customary roar of the crowd.

Arthur had turned away entirely and was instead focused on Harry, "Have another lance ready should he break it in this tilt." Again Harry did as he was told and stood there waiting and watching with the hefty lance in his grasp.

In the first tilt neither Ormond nor Arlan hit home, though Ormond's lance did deflect off Arlan's shield and toward his head. As they came around again Arlan aimed for Ormond's near shoulder. The lance slipped past the Yronwood's shield and crashed into his plate armor with a resounding crunch. It shattered the lance but the force of the hit wasn't enough to unhorse his opponent. Harry was waiting with the lance as Arlan came around again. Without being told this time he rushed to retrieve another should he break this next lance against Lord Ormond. Arthur seemed pleased that he took the initiative.

They broke four lances each against one another and in the end it was Arlan that came out the victor. His lance drove into Ormond's chest when he was using his shield to defend the shoulder that had been battered three times previously. The hit sent Ormond tumbling off his horse backward, and it was lucky that he did not end up landing on his head. In a show of good sportsmanship, Arlan dismounted his own horse and helped his opponent to his feet earning a bit more of the crowds favor. _Though that certainly wasn't the reason behind his actions._

And so the day's events went on. For hours the gathered people watched with rapt attention as the field of knights dwindled down from the hundreds who started in the lists to just sixty-four. A knight of House Ambrose fell from his horse awkwardly and badly injured his leg while another from House Morrigen broke his arm when he made a bad strike with his lance.

Arlan's final joust came against Ser Kevan Lannister. The eldest of Tywin's younger brothers wore crimson armor, trimmed with gold and emblazoned with a golden lion on his chest. Kevan rode well but he was not the best of the Lannister brothers in the joust that distinction went to his younger brother Tygett. Still they went six tilts in total, Arlan broke four lances on the Lannister while Kevan broke just two. Despite his brother's loss, Tywin clapped along with the rest of the crowd at Arlan's success.

Of Aerys Kingsguard, only four remained: Oswell Whent, Barristan Selmy, Gerold Hightower, and Prince Lewyn. Ser Harlan Grandison, the eldest of the revered knights was beaten in the first round, and Harry thought he looked plenty happy for it. Ser Gwayne Gaunt ran afoul of his own sworn brother as he was unseated by Ser Gerold. Ser Jonothor Darry put forth an impressive showing against Lord Steffon but after ten tilts the Lord of Storm's End was declared the victor.

Arlan's prospects for the first round of the following day were good for as he was paired with Luthor Tyrell. The Lord Tyrell was not known as being the best of riders but had benefitted the first day from being paired against one elder knight long past his prime in Ser Harlan, and one of his own young bannerman who seemed reluctant to strike his liege lord. Unfortunately, Arlan's prospects after that were far more grim as he would be jousting either Ser Barristan or Lord Steffon.

The joust lasted the entire day, and as Harry walked back to the tent with Arthur, Arlan's armor shared between them, he felt exhausted. The adrenaline of watching his first proper joust had entirely worn off and he felt his feet dragging as he entered their temporary quarters. When they made it back to the tent, they set the armor down and prepared to buff and repair it the best they could. _Fortunately, Arlan didn't take nearly as much damage as some of the other competitors._

Arthur handed him a rag and they both sat on their cots and got to work. They worked in silence for a long time before Arthur broke it, "You did well today."

Harry looked up surprised before chuckling slightly. At Arthur's raised eyebrow he explained, "There wasn't exactly much that needed doing, to say I did it well… just seems somehow strange."

Arthur snorted, "That is true enough, but the key to being a good squire is being where you're supposed to be, with what you're supposed to have, when you're needed. In that regard, you succeeded today." He looked at the piece of metal in his hand, "And now the truly exhilarating part of the job, the buffing of armor." They both laughed at that and continued their work late into to the knight. As the many squires busied themselves with work, the lords and ladies were in Ashford Castle feasting the first day of the tourney. Late that night, as they were finishing, Ulric and Ashara entered the tent with offerings of bread and sweetmeats, both boys tried and failed to eat in a dignified matter.

(Scene Beak)

The next morning Harry awoke abruptly, far earlier than he'd hoped, thanks to a rhythmic bouncing next to him. He looked through bleary eyes to see Ashara there, her dark hair bobbing up in down. He rolled away from her but she just moved to the other side and pushed at his shoulder, "Wake up, Harry!"

He groaned and looked at her through one eye, "Ash, I had a rather long day yesterday, and unlike you it wasn't spent watching a joust and feasting. I like to get a bit more sleep before the archery contest starts later. Now if you wouldn't mind, I am going back to sleep."

Ashara huffed and crossed her arms across her chest, "We were going to play knights and knaves with the kids from the town though."

Harry sat up on his elbows and opened his eyes more fully, "I'm sure they'll be there again tomorrow Ash, and tomorrow I doubt I'll be as tired."

"But you promised," It wasn't like her to whine but she could tell she wasn't getting her way in this, so she went to her last resort.

"We both know that isn't true," Harry said with a smirk and she scowled.

"Fine!" She said exasperatedly, "but what am I supposed to do for the next few hours."

Harry laughed, "As long as you promise to go and get one of the guards, feel free to play knights and knaves."

"It wouldn't be as much fun if you're not there," She played with the hem of her shirt a moment before a mischievous glint came into her eye, and Harry resisted the urge to swallow nervously, "And what if I were to tell you that I am going to go without a guard? Unless of course that guard happens to be you brave squire."

"Well you would likely get me out of this bed," Harry said slowly, bringing a smile to her face again, "but that would only be so that I could tell your father of your little plan… and we both know that you would then be held in the tent the rest of the time we're here."

She looked at him as though he had grown a second head and forked tail, her eyes wide in horror as she whispered out, "You wouldn't dare."

He laid his head back down on his pillow, feeling just a little bit smug, "Oh, I most certainly would."

There was a deeper chuckle in the tent and they both turned to look at Arthur who'd awoken as well, "I think he has you this time Ashara." He swung his legs over the side of his cot and smiled at his sister, "Let him rest, I'll keep you company this morning."

Her mood brightened slightly at that but she still looked disappointed. She stared down at Harry through narrowed eyes, "Tomorrow?"

"Definitely," Harry told her with a smile, "I'll even let you wake me as early as you want." She giggled happily at that and leaned down to give him a hug and quick kiss on the cheek, which surprised him. She leaned back with a smile and slight tinge of red on her cheeks. He could feel his own brightening as well, "Have fun lazing about, sleepy."

He stuck his tongue out at her before resting his head back down on the pillow. He awoke an hour later, got dressed and made his way toward Lord Ulric's tent hoping to find something to eat. He pushed the flap of the tent out of his way and stopped when he noticed that not only was Ulric in the tent, but he wasn't alone. He was having a conversation with Olenna.

"….such a shame that you decided to have young Arthur squire with your eldest son." Olenna's sharp voice carried through the tent.

Ulric smiled indulgently, "Larra was reluctant to send Arthur away after Arlan squired for Lord Guliann Swann. At his mother's behest, Arlan agreed to take his younger brother as his squire." Ulric smiled wryly, "Trust me when I say that I doubt you will be the only one disappointed he didn't squire with their family."

Olenna snorted, "Many are disappointed already Ulric. Arthur's talent is well known, and his skill speaks well of both himself and the man who teaches him."

"I am well aware but…" He trailed off at that moment as he realized Olenna's attention was no longer on him but Harry instead.

"Apologies, my Lord. I was late in rising and was searching out something to eat." Harry's eyes flitted to Olenna and he bowed his head, "I did not mean to intrude on your conversation with the Lady Olenna."

Ulric made to speak but was interrupted by Olenna, "Nonsense boy, our conversation was just coming to a close." She stood as did Ulric, they exchanged farewells before she walked over to Harry and looked down at him, though he was nearly as tall even at nine years old.

"You have excellent manners for a former street urchin… too good I think. Then again perhaps you have just had a particularly impressive tutor. " That knowing look he'd seen the other day was in her eye again. She leaned close and spoke softly enough so that only he could hear, "The sigil of my house do you know what it is?" Harry nodded his head sharply and she continued, "The rose, it is all too common in Highgarden but I prefer the lily."

Harry's eyes snapped to hers and she was smiling slyly and brought a hand up to rest on his brow, "With eyes like yours, I would think you a Lannister bastard but they are different, more, unique even. And there was one woman I knew with similar eyes, I hope she is well." Harry understood her meaning and he gave her the faintest of nods.

Clearly satisfied, Olenna moved out of his personal space then, "It was a pleasure, young Harry. Let us hope that Arlan and the master of arms at Starfall can prove to make you as much of a knight as it appears Arthur will one day become." With that she exited the tent, a guard he hadn't even noticed right on her heels.

Ulric cleared his throat to grab Harry's attention, "There is a tray of food on the table awaiting you." Harry sat and began digging in before Ulric spoke again, "Olenna Tyrell is quite the interesting woman, sharper than most by far." Harry didn't know how to respond to that so Ulric elaborated, "We spoke of all our children… and you. She seemed to take quite an interest in you." Ulric laughed, "Of course, that's because she wasn't actually here to see me, she was here to see you."

Harry swallowed the food in his mouth, "I don't know why she would wish to see me," He sat in silent thought for a moment, "I remember little of her. I know only that she is a friend of my mother's and aided us."

"Aye, and it will be interesting to see if she ever wants anything in return for that aid in future." Ulric said more to himself than anything, "Eat up Harry, the archery contest shall be taking place shortly and I doubt you will want to miss it."

The other Daynes joined them a short while later and as a group they made their way over to the targets where the archery contest was to be held. Harry sat beside Ashara to watch the spectacle. There were fifty contestants in total and the victor was to be decided in six rounds, ten being eliminated in each of the first four, the fifth taking it down to the best two archers and the last deciding the victor. The winner of the competition would be given 500 dragons.

As they waited Harry spoke with Ashara, "So… what did you do with Arthur while I was sleeping?"

She scowled at him and pointedly ignored him in favor of the contest in front of them but he could tell she was just having a go at him. _She was quite happy with me when she left the tent after all._ So, as inconspicuously as he could manage he poked her in the ribs, she squeaked before retaliating with a poke of her own. They kept poking each other without drawing the attention of those around them until she was smiling again. He asked his question again and this time she answered.

"Arthur was nice enough to take into a field south of here," She told him as they watched the first volley of arrows fired, "He set up a target for me and I spent the time shooting arrows. It was quite enjoyable," She smirked in her brother's direction, "I must admit it's nice to know I'm a bit better with a bow than him." Arthur's ears turned the slightest bit red but he didn't rise to his sister's jibe.

By the time they reached the third round of the contest, Ashara was thoroughly unimpressed with the competitors, "I can shoot better than at least half of the people remaining… and I'm nine."

"Don't give them that much credit Ash," Harry said conspiratorially, "you're not nine yet." She looked pleased for a moment before she realized that he was teasing her and knocked his shoulder. She looked betrayed as she noticed Arthur silently laughing at Harry's side.

"You are right though," He nudged her shoulder, to regain her attention, "you could out shoot most of them." She smirked smugly at that as they watched the end of the competition.

In the end, the best of the archers turned out to be a man named Ulmer. He had a raggedy black beard, and a closely shaven head. Both Ashara and Arthur had said from the beginning he was likely to turn out the victor. He hit the bulls-eye from each distance as the rounds progressed.

The crowd moved from the archery contest quickly over to the joust as the knights prepared themselves for the next round of competition. They helped Arlan into his armor just as the day prior and he made his way out to the cheer of the crowd. Lord Luthor proved to be a difficult opponent though Arlan came out the victor. He broke five lances and finished the match in the seventh tilt. The Tyrell lord looked nonplussed at his loss. Between the matches jugglers and fire swallowers took to the yard to entertain the crowd as the next contestants prepared. _And no doubt to make the spectacle longer as well._

It was when only thirty-two riders remained that Arlan was finally eliminated. In his own first round, Ser Barristan unhorsed Lord Steffon in ten tilts, over the course of which both broke seven lances. Still the Kingsguard was prepared to face off against his younger opponent.

Arlan performed well against the famed knight. He broke four lances against Ser Barristan and nearly knocked him from his horse in the fifth tilt. The match lasted until the seventh tilt when Ser Barristan struck Arlan in the far shoulder and sent him tumbling to the dirt, his helmet flying off in the process. Arlan grabbed his helm from where it landed, waved to the crowd and then bowed to Ser Barristan before collecting his horse and walking away to applause.

"It was a good showing lads," Arlan said with a smile to his two squires, "but I was beaten by one of the greatest knights in the realm and there is no shame in that." Harry and Arthur nodded as they helped him out of his armor and immediately set to work at cleaning and buffing it.

The sun was just beginning to set on the horizon when the second day of the tourney came to an end. Ser Barristan was unhorsed by his sworn brother, Prince Lewyn, while the Lord Commander had been unhorsed by his own nephew Leyton Hightower. Tygett Lannister unhorsed, Ser Oswell Whent. And they were the three favorites going into the final day. The melee would take place prior to the last of the joust.

That night Harry expected they would take part in that night's feast, but Arthur had other plans. Instead Harry found himself in a clearing outside of the camp along with Arlan, Lucas, and the other guards. Arthur stood alone against the five of them, a greatsword in hand. This was his way of preparing for a melee and, more importantly, battles he would likely be involved in the future. As the moon rose on the clear spring night, the singing of steel could be heard in the little clearing.

Arthur was something to behold fully armored, and with an intense focus. He wielded the greatsword with greater ease than most men wielded a longsword. He was a whirlwind of motion, dodging and blocking blows with all the fluidity of a dancer. Harry lost count of how many times he was knocked on his ass that night but he wasn't particularly surprised. Arthur was always impressively dangerous, but his single minded focus left him nigh untouchable. In a moment of frustration, Harry made Arthur stumble by moving a rock in the path of his step but it served as little deterrent for him as he continued his assault until he had his five opponents exhausted as he heaved great breaths as well.

As they walked back to their tent Arthur grasped Harry's shoulder, "Thank you for your help, Harry. You acquitted yourself well, better than Addam, and he's more than three times your age."

Despite his bruises, Harry smiled at the compliment, "Well you still handled us easily enough."

"True," Arthur admitted with a shrug of his shoulders, "But you only keep getting better, Harry. And someday, I have no doubt you'll be capable of much the same."

They ate a quick meal when they arrived back at their tent before going to sleep for the night.

(Scene Break)

The following morning, as he expected, he was awoken bright and early by Ashara. After bathing and eating, he followed her through the town until they came upon the group of children from their talk two days prior. Ashara seemed hesitant for a moment, afraid that perhaps they would have seen either Harry or her at the tourney among the squires and nobles but none had noticed, or at least chose not to mention it.

The knaves were to steal an old cloth from the knights, which they were to return to a small boat by the river that served as their home base. If the knights managed to send each of the knaves to the dungeon, a small alcove under one of the bridges across the river, then they would win. As the eldest, Morra and Davin served as the first of the knights.

Morra pursued Harry, Ashara, Eve, Alan, and Theo throughout the town while Davin guarded the cloth on his own. Harry, Ashara, and Alan stuck close to one another, staying out of sight until they found Davin guarding the cloth while Eve and Theo served as a distraction for Morra. When they drew close to their adversary they stopped out of sight, "Alright," Harry said to the other two, "two of us should pull him away from the cloth while the third sneaks behind and grabs the cloth."

"Simple enough," Ashara said with a slight smile, while Alan just nodded timidly, clearly still not used to the newcomers. Alan and Harry distracted Davin and drew him away from the cloth. _Who would have thought that calling someone's mother a hamster would work so well?_ Ashara slipped in behind and snatched up the cloth. What came next was a rather frantic foot race through the town with Ashara narrowly making it back to the boat before Marra caught her.

They played twice more, once where Harry and Ashara played as the knights and succeeded in capturing all the knaves, and in the other they were on opposing teams. Ashara and Eve played as the knights and Harry ended up being caught by the Lady Dayne. _She is never going to let me live that down._ In fact, even as they made their way back to the tent to ready themselves for the melee, she still made comment about how she, "would always be the better knight, poor knave." He let her gloat only because he knew there was no good way of getting back at her.

They went to the stands with Arlan and Ulric and watched as the melee began. There were forty-three contestants in total, Arthur and Oberyn being the youngest of those fighting. Lord Steffon decided to take part in the melee, likely against his wife's wishes if the scowl on her face was any indication. Despite being the host of the event, Lord Ashford took the field as well. Ser Gwayne and Ser Oswell of the Kingsguard participated; Barristan and Lewyn refrained given their places in the coming joust. Gerion Lannister stood out from the rest of the fighters in his golden armor.

The rules of this particular melee were quite simple, no mounts were to be used and to win you must be the last man standing at the end of the fight. You could be removed from the fight by incapacitation or by yielding to an opponent. It began on King Aerys command, and some of the squires and younger knights, namely Mace Tyrell and Olymer Oakheart, jumped straight into the fray while others, like Arthur waited and watched with the understanding that the melee was a marathon not a sprint.

Lord Steffon knocked three men out of the competition in the first thirty minutes. First, with a strike to the head, he incapacitated a knight from the House Ambrose. Next a knight from House Merryweather yielded when Lord Baratheon battered his shield to nothing but splinters. Finally he broke the arm of a young man from House Marbrand, who promptly fainted when he saw the odd angle of his arm.

Arthur found himself fighting Gerion Lannister early on during the melee, a good distance away from the main part of the skirmish. The youngest of Tywin's brothers wielded a sword and shield with some skill, but he was no match for the younger Dayne. Arthur tore through his guard, knocking Gerion's shield to the ground and bringing Gerion to his knees before the slightly older boy yielded with a cry that could be heard over the din of steel meeting steel.

Next he found himself fighting the Heir of Highgarden, who was clad in finely crafted steel tinted green and adorned with gold flowers. His beautiful armor did him little good before Arthur's sword though. His sword slashed through the air in wide arcs almost immediately putting Mace on the defensive in the ever muddier field of battle. Mace attempted to shift the tide of the fight by pressing an attack but he lacked the advantage, instead Arthur closed in and with the hilt of his sword smacked Mace in the head and sent him reeling to the ground, the young Tyrell lost his sword and dazedly yielded a moment later.

Oberyn was the only combatant wielding a spear, and it was clear to Harry that the Prince of Dorne knew how to properly use the uncommon weapon. He lashed out like a snake from the grass, and managed to take two other knights unawares, the tip of his spear resting dangerously against their necks.

His time in the fight came to an end when Ser Gwyane met him in the battle. Unlike many of the other knights present, Gwayne had fought men who preferred the spear over the sword and while the young Prince of Dorne may one day be the more skilled, the Kingsguard was the more experienced. Oberyn found the distance necessary to effectively wield the spear cut short and a blade pressed to his chest, he was forced to yield to the elder man. A moment later, Ser Gwayne removed an exhausted Olymer Oakheart from the competition, with cuts to both his left leg and arm.

After an hour of competition only fifteen fighters remained. Among them were the two Kingsguard, Lord Steffon, Lord Arron, and Arthur; Arthur being the only squire of the bunch.

Arthur found himself battling Lord Sumner Crackehall, who used a morningstar. Arthur dodged around the older man, always keeping him in front while also keeping an eye on the others in the battle. He brought his greatsword up with a slash. When Lord Crakehall attempted to block the blow, he clearly wasn't expecting the force behind it as it drove him back three steps. Arthur walked after him and kicked out with his left leg, sending the man face first into the mud at which point his head became all but lodged in the mud. He yielded… though it was muffled by the mud and the japes of the crowd.

Lord Steffon used his hammer to destroy the shield of a knight from House Darklyn. There was a sickening crunch as the wood finally relented to his attack, and based on the scream that emitted from the man's mouth something in his arm suffered as well. Lord Steffon then swept the legs out from a knight of House Rosby, whose back was turned to him. He raised his hammer in warning only for the knight to yield.

Ser Oswell and Ser Gwayne found their blades crossed. The sworn brothers went at each other ferociously, and despite the sounds of the ever dwindling battle their jokes at one another's expense could be heard much to the joy of the spectators. In the end, it was Ser Oswell that won the fight when Ser Gwayne slipped in the mud and was forced to one knee. He managed to hold out against his comrade for a minute more but the assault proved too much and he yielded. When he took off his helm, he bowed to the crowd and cheered for Oswell.

Arthur danced away from Lord Ashford, who was expending a great deal of energy on an offensive. He threw around savage swings but none hit home as Arthur deflected and dodged all that came near his person. With a yell Lord Ashford brought his sword down in a wide arc and, while Arthur deflected the blow, it pushed him to one knee. Lord Ashford relaxed for just a moment and it proved to be his undoing. Arthur's left arm flashed out, and his gauntleted hand made contact right with his opponent's knee, pulling a wailing scream from the lord. He went down in a heap not to rise for the fight again.

The number dwindled slowly over the course of the next half an hour, until only Ser Oswell and Arthur remained. Lord Steffon had been the last to fall before the final two remained. He was unable to pivot and avoid a blow from Arthur, while at the same time guarding against a stab from Oswell. He chose the less damaging of the two attacks and it crashed into the metal guarding his ribs. The blow sent the large Lord of Storms's End to the ground and he yielded as both of his remaining opponents closed in. He removed his horned helmet and despite his loss and injury there was a smile on his face.

Ser Oswell and Arthur circled each other; whatever fatigue they felt was invisible to the crowd as they steeled themselves for this last bit of fighting. They came together and the singing of their steel drew a cheer from the crowd. Harry and Ashara were on their feet cheering Arthur, though they'd been in much the same position the duration of the fight. Ser Oswell was not a member of the Kingsguard for no reason though, he guarded as well as he attacked and he was patient, knowing when best to attack the younger boy on instinct. But Arthur just kept on pushing back, his greatsword digging into the metal and wood of Oswell's shield or clashing with the steel of his sword.

Five minutes into their fight, Arthur stabbed with his sword and it was blocked by Oswell only for his blade to sink and lodge in the wood. Arthur pulled trying to free his weapon while Oswell took advantage of the situation and slashed at Arthur's helm. The younger Dayne, ducked and with both hands, he leveraged his sword upward forcing Oswell into the air as his arm buckled. The Kingsguard was forced to abandon his shield and on his next slash, Arthur shattered it on the man's armor. While it sent him stumbling for a moment he righted himself before Arthur had the opportunity to take further advantage.

Ten minutes in, and just before the melee had reached two hour in length, their fight came to an end. Arthur attacked, slashing at Oswell left side only to have it deflected. He reared back then and stabbed at Oswell's stomach. The older knight, locked his blade and pushed him back, pulling his sword from his hand in the process, many a men would have yielded then and Oswell all but expected it for a brief moment but instead Arthur closed the gap and drove his shoulder into the older man's chest, knocking him off balance and tumbling backward. Quickly, Arthur regained his sword and started pressing the Kingsguard. Oswell parried a few blows from the ground but Arthur just loomed ever closer over him until he brought his foot down straight on his opponents hand, pinning it and his weapon to the ground. Oswell made to swing at Arthur's leg with his other arm but he stopped when he felt cold steel touch at the gap between his helmet and his chestpiece.

There was a moment of stunned silence as the fighting came to an end and then before anyone else, Harry and Ashara were on their feet cheering for Arthur as hard as their voices would allow after two hours of over usage. The crowd roared to life just a split second later as Arthur helped Oswell to his feet, the Kingsguard removed his helmet adorned with bat's wings and offered a bow to the young man who'd beaten him. Arthur offered a bow of his own in deference before turning to the King and doing the same. He waved to the crowd for a long moment before making his way off his muddied field of victory.

The Daynes and Harry left the stands before any others and found Arthur back at the tent, slowly removing his armor with more than one grunt of pain. He was fatigued and stunk of sweat, the evidence of it all across his brow and on his shirt but despite all that he was smiling. Even as he protested, Ashara hugged him. He returned the gesture gently, not wanting to ruin her dress.

"You were absolutely brilliant," She yelled to her beloved brother as Harry nodded vigorously in agreement. Arthur smiled at her and ruffled her hair even as Harry approached and helped him out of the last of his armor. Arthur gave him a grateful look as his father and brother approached.

Arlan rested his hand on his younger brother's head and ruffled his sweat-slicked silver locks, "You've won your first melee at thirteen brother, few can boast as much… I mean, Seven Hells, I've yet to win a tourney of my own. I think it might be time to just get it out of the way and knight you."

Ulric laughed from beside them, "It would certainly seem that way wouldn't it." He kneeled down and looked his son straight in the eye, their near identical indigo eyes locking on one another, "I couldn't be prouder of you Arthur, not just because you won but because of how you won. And your mother will be just as proud, as will your master at arms I think. " He smirked, "Though you might want to hide your bruises from your mother."

"Apologies Lord Dayne," All eyes snapped to the entrance of the tent, where Rhaegar stood with his hands behind his back, "I did not mean to intrude on your family but I find myself pressed for time with the joust starting soon."

Lord Dayne bowed his head, "No apologies necessary, my Prince, and please come in."

Rhaegar acknowledged Ulric before stepping forward and offering a small smile to his friend, "Congratulations Arthur, I have long said it would only be a matter of time before you found yourself the victor in a melee. And I doubt we will have to wait many more years before you are dominating the lists."

Arthur let out a short chuckle, "I can only hope to dominate the lists until you find your way among them, but you were right… I won a melee far sooner than I expected."

"Ser Oswell shall be sore for a month, I think. He was complaining about the bruises you left on his arse before I came here." Rhaegar jested and all save Arthur were silently surprised. It was rare to hear Rhaegar so open, but he was more comfortable around his closest friend than he was others, even if they were in the company of his family.

"I doubt it was me who left Ser Oswell's arse sore, your Grace," Arthur smirked, "though I imagine he shall find his sword hand stiff for some time."

Rhaegar laughed lightly, "Too true, my friend," Ser Barristan stuck his head in and gained the Prince's attention, "It seems I must be going, I shall expect to see you all at the feast tonight. Most of you have been absent as of yet." He looked to Harry, "I imagine Arthur has been busying you with other things, but he will be doing none of that tonight I assure you." Harry bowed his head and with that the Prince bid the Daynes farewell and made his way out of the tent.

The end of the joust proved anticlimactic for Harry. After the exhilaration of the melee and Arthur's victory, watching as Prince Lewyn managed to unhorse Tygett Lannister in twelve tilts in which a total of fifteen lances were broken didn't have quite the same affect, despite it being the best joust of the day. The Dornishman went on to defeat Lord Leyton Hightower in the final match in just six tilts. Upon his victory, as was quite common among the Kingsguard, Lewyn presented Queen Rhaella with a crown of white roses, making her the queen of love and beauty. She accepted with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes though the King seemed pleased with his knight's victory.

The rest of the day passed quickly until the point that Harry found himself walking with Ashara and Arthur into the great hall of Ashford Castle. Harry wore the crimson shirt Ashara sewed him underneath a silver coat.

The great hall was filling quickly with lords and ladies. The King and Queen sat at the head table with the Lord Ashford and his wife. Dozens of long tables filled the hall from end to end, each one covered in dishes from around the kingdoms. On the left hand side of the room as one entered, there were musicians playing a pleasant tune that only added to the ever growing noise of the room.

The Daynes took their seat at one of the tables and as he took everything in, Harry couldn't help but feel ever so slightly overwhelmed by the crowd around him. There had been small feasts at Starfall, but nothing of this magnitude. _And to think, this is nothing compared to what might be put together at Lannisport or in the capital._ Harry was surprised when the Princess Aliandra with Elia, Oberyn and the Yronwoods sat down across from each other.

Aliandra, Arlan and Ulric took up a conversation of their own while the Yronwoods spoke with the Gargalen's across from them, leaving the younger Martells and Daynes to speak freely.

Noticing Harry's look of surprise Oberyn decided to try and lighten his mood, "We Dornishmen must stick together; otherwise, we are sure to have quite the disappointing time. After all, we're the only ones who know how to have a proper party." He flashed the people across from him a roguish smile. Harry and Ashara chuckled but Harry couldn't help but find the young prince across from him familiar.

It was the smile more than anything, and in a moment Harry saw a flash of a man, dark-haired like the prince but older with grey eyes instead of dark, almost black. This man's flesh was pale, as though he'd been deprived the feel of warmth on his skin for a long time, but there was that smile. This was someone important to his other self, Harrion could feel the sense of affection the face brought to some deeper part of his being. _Sirius Black._ The name flitted across through his mind like a whisper on the wind.

Introductions were made, or at least Harry was introduced to the Martells. Fortunately it was quicker than the tale told to Rhaegar earlier, as they simply accepted the short version of his coming to be among the Daynes.

The young princess looked to Arthur, "Congratulations," Elia's voice could be heard over the noise around them despite its soft quality, "on your victory in the melee today Arthur."

Arthur smiled at the princess, "Thank you, my Lady, I count myself lucky that certain men," his eyes darted behind them where Prince Lewyn now stood, "didn't participate."

Elia smirked at him, "Oh, you're right I'm sure. My uncle is quite the skilled warrior, and should you have met in the field… well I'm not saying you would have lost but you would have had a bit more mud on that armor of yours."

"I disagree, princess," Ashara said defiantly from beside her brother, "Any man who crossed weapons with Arthur today was likely to find themselves screaming their loss to the crowd." Elia looked surprised by the younger girl's vehemence. She admired her loyalty to her brother, even if Ashara had missed the teasing nature of the conversation. Harry was ready to respond to any who thought to refute Ashara. _Arthur would have won regardless of who else was on the field today._

"Perhaps you're right, Princess Elia," Arthur admitted with a smile while ruffling his sister's hair, "Or maybe Ashara is right and I would have put a bit of mud on that white armor of his instead." Lewyn silently laughed at Arthur's jibe without alerting his nephew and niece of his presence.

Oberyn grabbed an olive from a bowl in front of them and popped it into his mouth as he interjected, "I'm not so sure you believe that anyway, dear sister." He turned to her with a playful glint in his eye, "I believe I heard your voice in the crowd of people calling out in favor of Arthur as loudly as it did mine." Elia glared at her brother though there was a slight blush on her cheeks, and it only made him laugh and feign injury, "It wounded me quite deeply I must say, I lost the heart to fight and that is why Ser Gwayne so easily removed me from the competition." Ashara and Harry laughed and he shot them a quick wink.

"Really nephew," The younger Martells turned to look at the man behind them happily, "Gwayne told it quite differently, and from what I could see you were far too worried about your offensive, and forgot to keep your distance." His eyes shifted to Arthur, "On the other hand, Oswell had nothing but good things to say of you Arthur. Truly, you wield that greatsword with more ease than I've ever witnessed from a boy of three and ten."

"Well," Oberyn announced loudly, "I think it is as much the fine tutelage of Ser Arlan as it is Arthur's natural talent." His dark gaze turned to Harry, who to this point had been listening in amused, if rapt, silence, "That ought to mean we shall see you winning a melee in short order."

"I… I wouldn't go so far as that my Lord," Harry stuttered for a moment, but corrected himself quickly, "though… I shall last longer than you did in just a short time."

Everyone stared at him for a long moment, and he feared that he may have overstepped. But then, Ashara allowed a tiny giggle to escape her lips and a moment later everyone burst into laughter, Prince Lewyn included.

Elia slapped her brother on the shoulder, "It would seem, dear brother, that you bit off a bit more than you could chew with this one."

"If your blade turns out as quick as your wit, perhaps you will be as much a fighter as Arthur someday." Oberyn told him with another of his roguish smiles.

Ashara leaned in so that only Harry could hear, "I always thought we needed to catch your wit up to your blade." He gaped at her for a moment but when he noticed her shoulders shaking in laughter he just stuck his tongue out at her. There exchange went unnoticed by all save Elia.

Prince Lewyn's attention had fixed on Arthur, "I did come over here for a reason. If you would come with me Arthur, the King and Lord Ashford wish to present you with your winnings for the melee." Arthur stood immediately and joined the Kingsguard and Lord Leyton on the raised dais before the King.

Prince Lewyn was awarded 2,000 dragons for his victory in the joust, while both Lord Leyton and Arthur were gifted 1,000 for winning the melee and coming in second in the joust. There was a general round of applause from the gathered nobles. As the noise died down, the king's voice could be heard by many in the room, "Lord Ashford, some of the most exhilarating tourneys in history have taken place here. We shall build a permanent arena from stone in the meadow so that you might hold them more frequently." The king finished his declaration verbosely. Lord Ashford looked pleased while beside the king, Tywin scowled more severely than usual.

Harry heard as Princess Aliandra confided in Ulric and Arlan, "The King has become notorious for such claims, just a few short months ago, when he visited Sunspear, he claimed that he would build a great underground canal that would make the desert bloom." She scoffed and leaned slightly closer so as not to be overheard, "He sounded quite the fool. And whatever else he might be, at least Lord Tywin is efficient, as I cringe to think what state the kingdom would be in otherwise."

Ulric nodded and added his own thoughts, "Lucerys tells me that Aerys has started to become contemptuous of Tywin's successes, and finds great pleasure when others at court slight him in any way."

"I have heard much the same," Aliandra agreed readily, "and I am surprised Joanna is here… I know her to be uncomfortable in the King's company and when he has wine in him he can be quite inappropriate."

"She has left the feast early the past two nights," Ulric reasoned, "I doubt it will be any different tonight." _That is rather interesting, I was not aware the king was quite so… eccentric._

The feast continued on, food and drink were taken in equal measure and eventually the tables were moved aside and room was made to dance. Harry was grateful for the formal training in dance he'd received from both his mother and Larra as he took both Ashara and Elia around the room. He grew hot in his coat during the dancing and when he danced with Elia she commented on it.

"That is quite the lovely shirt," There was a knowing gleam in her eye, "Ashara told me she made it for you."

"She did," Harry admitted and he was glad for the dancing as his cheeks were already flushed, "it was her name day present to me."

"The snake must have some significance to the two of you," Harry stiffened ever so slightly, concerned what Ashara might have said, "As your gift to her had a similar design?"

"Ah," Harry said sheepishly, "We had a run-in with a snake when traveling along the Torrentine. We both seemed to have been taken by the image since." Elia hummed to herself as the twirled around the room with the rest of the crowd and Harry didn't particularly know what to make of that.

Rhaegar could be seen just a few times among the crowd, dancing with a few highborn ladies, including the Dornish princess and his own mother. But the highlight of the night as it pertained to the Prince was when he took up the harp. Almost the entirety of the crowd stopped to watch as his fingers glided effortlessly, plucking out a beautiful melody. More than one of the ladies in the room looked almost dazed as he played.

Harry and Arthur stood next to one another and listened as he played, "He is an impressive musician." Harry commented to the older boy.

"There is little about Rhaegar that isn't impressive as you get to know him," Arthur said with a faint smile, "He is a unique friend in that regard."

"You are one of the few who can boast such," A deep almost drawling voice said from behind them. The boys turned to see Lord Tywin there with his twins. Harry looked around to see Joanna speaking with Aliandra nearby. Tywin offered his hand to the young Dayne, "Congratulations on your victory, Arthur. I suppose we can expect great things from you in the future." From his side Jaime was staring at Arthur in wide-eyed wonder, clearly impressed by the older boys' earlier exploits.

"Thank you Lord Hand," Arthur said politely as Harry resisted the urge to fidget in his discomfort. While he had expected to see Tywin from afar, he hadn't expected to come face to face with him.

"Your eyes," Harry looked down to see the observant eyes of Cersei looking at him intently, "they almost glow they are so green." She spoke well for being only four, unsurprising given her high birth.

Arthur stifled a chuckle as Harry failed miserably thinking of a way to respond to that. He was saved from thinking of something when Lord Tywin spoke up, "My daughter is right," His golden-flecked green eyes scrutinized Harry with an intensity he wasn't accustomed to that left him feeling naked, "but then the Prince informed me that you are originally from the Westerlands, so I am unsurprised." Harry breathed an internal sigh of relief but it was quickly broken as Tywin continued, "Though, I must say your story stuck me as odd. I remember no bandits along the road to Lannisport from Oxcross some nine years ago."

Harry swallowed, "I am afraid I have no further explanation, my Lord, I know only what I was told in a letter from my mother."

Tywin's eyes narrowed, "That was a different time though I suppose, so much to deal with. The Reynes and Tarbecks defied their liege lord and it left the West in no small amount of turmoil."

Harry stiffened ever so slightly, "As you say, my Lord, I was but a babe. My mother made no mention of the rebellion though I am aware of the rather impressive way in which you ended it."

"Your mother, yes." Tywin tapped his chin, "I cannot say that I know many literate potters, much less their wives."

"Then I suppose that my mother must have been an exceptional woman, and my father as well." It took Harry some effort to keep the edge out of his voice, "I only wish they could have lived their lives the way they deserved, but the Seven were not so kind."

Tywin searched Harry's emerald green eyes with his own, and he hoped that he hadn't given anything away, "Well they have shown you some kindness," He glanced in Arthur's direction and he understood the meaning. Tywin placed a hand on both of the twin's backs who both bid them farewell before he pushed them slightly, "I bid both of you a good night." They responded in kind and Harry found himself breathing deeply to calm his frazzled nerves.

The rest of the night passed in a blur for him as he replayed the exchange over and over again in his head, hoping that Tywin had been nothing more than curious. _The last thing I wish to do is put my parents or the Daynes in danger._

(Scene Break)

After the excitement of the tourney, the journey back to Starfall offered the opportunity to wind down. Fortunately, for Ashara at least, it didn't feel half as long as the journey there. The first night back, they regaled Larra, Reynard and Lily with stories of the tourney. Harry wasn't sure who was more proud of Arthur's achievement his mother or Harry's father but, both certainly offered their heartfelt congratulations.

In private, Harry told his parents of his brief conversation with Tywin. His father tried valiantly to soothe his concerns, "Whatever Tywin might think Harry, we are outside of his influence and even further outside of his concern. He has responsibilities that far outweigh some minor suspicions regarding the second squire of the heir to a noble Dornishman." He glanced at Lily and she nodded slightly, "I do not believe that you gave him any reason to doubt the truth of your story. If anything he is likely to think you some distantly related bastard to his own family than he is to think you related to a man he believes to be dead."

Lily ran a hand through Harry's hair and smiled at him, "You cannot worry yourself over such things, Harrion. There is nothing you can do to control what might come, and should something come of it, we will deal with it." Harry's eyes widened slightly, "And nothing will happen to the Daynes should their aid be discovered. We shall insure that much if nothing else." Harry wasn't sure how his mother managed to read him so easily but he imagined that was just something all mothers could manage if they so wished. He went to bed that night more relaxed than he'd been on the road returning to Starfall, but still there was the slightest hint of worry needling at the back of his mind.

A week after they returned, Harry and Ashara were walking along the bank of the Torrentine quite a long way further from the castle than they would usually choose to venture. Around Ashara's shoulders sat the snake, Upir. Their first attempt at finding the supposed ship he'd spoken of had failed miserably. The decided together that they would seek out the snake in the hopes that he could better guide them to its location. Both were more than a little excited at the prospect and were truly curious as to what they might find.

' _Look,' Upir spoke up for the first time in nearly an hour, the gentle motion of Ashara's walk lulling him to sleep for a time, 'that hill there, beneath it you shall find the ship I spoke of.'_

Ashara looked at him expectantly and started bouncing when he smiled at her, "It would seem we are here."

"Well, what are we waiting for then?!" She gently removed Upir from her shoulder s and set him down in the sand by the bank before she promptly started removing her shirt and trousers, leaving her in just her small clothes and tight white shift. Harry knew telling her to remain behind while he went to scout out this supposed vessel would be futile so instead, he too stripped down until he was in just his smallclothes. He resisted the urge to blush being nearly nude before Ashara and felt slightly heartened by the fact she averted her eyes with a slight blush at his nakedness.

' _We shall return for you,'_ Harry said to their serpentine companion. Upir did what he could only assume was the snake's equivalent to a shoulder shrug before lying his head in the warm sand.

Together they stepped into the water; it was cool, only being a new spring but it certainly wasn't bitter cold. The current was weak there, slowly pulling south toward the Summer Sea. They submerged their heads beneath the current. As Harry opened his eyes, he felt the keen sting of the water. By the time he'd adjusted, Ashara had already started swimming toward the cave in the side of the riverside hill. It was large, clearly large enough for a vessel of rather considerable size to fit.

She was the better of the two of them at swimming, so as she pushed herself ever deeper, her legs pumping forcefully. He kept himself near the surface for the time being. _There is no guarantee that there will be an air pocket in that cave and I'd rather not take the risk._ It did not take long before she was entirely out of sight.

He stopped and took a deep breath just where the large hill met the bank, only to pause as Ashara's head popped up beside him. Her eyes were bright red but full of unbridled glee, "There is something there Harry! There is actually something there!" She tread water beside him, "And as an added benefit, there is an air pocket in the cave."

"Excellent," Harry said with a smile.

Ashara giggled before her expression turned serious, "I would recommend being cautious, it is quite dark in there and there is no telling what could be lurking in the shadows." She splashed him once to lighten the mood, "Deep breath now, Harry."

The both submerged again and a few sort seconds later, Harry got his first proper look at the cave and ship. The cave was large, probably a hundred feet from top to bottom, and maybe half again as wide. There were a few smaller fish swimming around in the mostly stagnant waters of the cave and various algae growing along the floor and walls of the riverside cave.

The ship was in surprisingly good condition given it had likely been sunken for quite some time. However along its hull there was an obvious gash that had likely brought it to the depths. _The current probably pushed it into the cave from there._ It was some thirty feet in length from bow to stern and its sails were ripped but still held a faint reddish color.

As they drew nearer Harry noticed a skeleton in some seaweed just a few feet from the actual ship, but it appeared as though the person had been trying to reach the ship, not flee. Ashara obviously noticed it too as she stopped for a moment before continuing. They reached the ship and surveyed the deck. There was nothing of particular import there and both moved up to the air pocket to prepare before exploring the rest of the vessel.

Ashara pushed her hair from her eyes before speaking, "I will check the cabin, you check the hull. There is bound to be something to tell us where this ship came from."

"No," Harry said firmly, bringing her eyes back to him before she managed to sink beneath the water again, "We will search both areas together." She made to protest but he cut her off, "I don't care if it takes longer! It will be safer if we do it together."

She remained silent and Harry gave her a pointed look, "Fine! We do it together." Harry smiled a little smugly before taking a deep breath and diving down. They went back down to the ship and pushed open the wooden door to the cabin. Inside there was little save a worn bed. But there was a chest, considerably heavier than he expected and still locked. They moved out so that it rested on the deck before returning for air again.

"We will carry the chest back up to the surface after we check the hull," Harry said between heaving breaths. Ashara just nodded her agreement before they made their last trip down into the ship. They swam into the hull through the destroyed side. It was darker in there than it was anywhere else in the cave and they were nearly blind. There were just a few weapons along the side, many of them spears, many of them corroded. Harry noted that they were made of iron. It was a shield that rested against the wall that told them where the ship came from though.

Emblazoned on an iron shield was a red sun, just a red sun. _This is one of Nymeria's ten thousand ships._ Harry stared blankly at the sigil before he started pointing frantically at the shield to catch Ashara's attention. She had swum deeper into the ship and came back, but that is when he noticed that something was following her. By her leg there was an eel some ten feet in length preparing to strike her, unbeknownst to Harry there was at that same moment another unfriendly water dweller at his back.

At the same moment, Ashara grabbed the dagger that rested on her thigh and Harry grabbed a sheathed dagger from where it rested on a shelf. He took the dagger from its home grabbed the eel near its head with his left hand before bring the dagger down and piercing its skull in one fluid motion. The eel floated limply in the water. He turned to help Ashara only to find that she'd sliced his own assailant open from its middle all the way up to its head.

Harry could feel himself beginning to run out of air and hurriedly grabbed a shield from where it rested against the wall. He forced his way back up to the air pocket and breathed deeply as brought both the dagger and the shield up for his inspection. The shield fared far better than the spears, it was only slightly corroded and the red sun on its face looked almost as good as new, quite a feat given the centuries it had been under water. The dagger on the other hand was a far greater surprise, it was in perfect condition sharp as the day it was made and the faint light rippled along its length. _This is a Valyrian steel dagger!_

Ashara burst up out of the water at that moment, "Thank you so much for leaving me down there!" She splashed water on him and scowled.

"You're the better swimmer Ash and I thought you were right behind me." Harry tried to reason with her.

She smiled, "Oh, I was but I thought I would try and bring the chest up myself so we didn't have to do it together… it didn't work, obviously." She looked at the dagger in his hand, "Seven Hells, is that a Valyrian dagger?"

"It is," Harry said softly before shaking himself, "let's get back to dry land, we will need to hurry to reach Starfall at a reasonable hour." She nodded seriously, and they dove, grabbed the chest, and made their way out of the cave and to the shore. They redressed themselves, Harry feeling rather stupid for having left his own dagger on the shore with his belt before Ashara grabbed Upir and they made their way back to the castle.

Harry carried the shield but gave the dagger to Ashara. She looked surprised when he extended it to her but he just shrugged, "I've only just been given a new dagger, and I think you'll find it more useful for the time being than I will." She smiled sheepishly and hugged him despite their slightly wet clothes.

When they arrived back at Starfall eyes followed them through the castle as they went in search of their parents. The found them dining and as they pushed through the doors all eyes locked on them. Larra was the first to speak, "Where have you two been? And where did you find that chest?"

Harry rubbed the back of his neck guiltily as Ashara averted her eyes under her mother's stern gaze, "We were walking along the Torrentine, a bit farther than we really should have, and decided to go for a swim." He hesitated a moment as he noticed the look on his own mother's face, "While in the river we noticed a cave and decided to investigate."

"And what was in this cave?" Ulric's voice was far more curious than accusatory.

"Well there was a ship, so… we investigated the ship, found this chest, killed a couple of eels, found a Valyrian steel dagger, and discovered that it was one of Nymeria's ships thanks to this shield." Harry decided it would be best to get it all out in the open now then to draw it out. Everyone at the table looked at them owlishly and his father laughed loudly, but quickly stopped when he noticed the looks from both Larra and Lily.

Ulric spoke up carefully, "That is quite the find. May I see the shield?" Harry handed it over quickly and waited as he looked it over, "Made of iron, and bearing Nymeria's red sun. I would have to say this is genuine. Were there more in the ship?" Harry and Ashara nodded quickly. "We shall have to retrieve them… and open that chest as well."

"Lovely," Larra said sharply glaring at the children, "I hope you enjoyed your little adventure, Ashara. It will be your last for the next month."

"The same goes for you, Harrion." Lily spoke up in support of Larra, "And be glad no harm came to either of you, or the punishment would be far worse."

Ulric laid a hand on his wife's shoulder and she calmed before sitting, he looked at the two adventurous children, "You've had enough excitement for one day, now sit and eat."

They did and as they were bid and as they sat beside each other, Ashara whispered so that only he could hear, "Worth it."

"Absolutely," He had a hard time keeping the smile from his face.

* * *

AN: I'll be honest this chapter kind of got away from me. I thought it was only going to be around 10,000 words but it just kept getting longer. There were even a couple of scenes (one where they were waylaid on the road or one where Ashara got herself into some trouble with less than reputable people in Ashford) that I thought about writing and didn't. And some of it probably doesn't feel that important. But there will be a few little things that have significance later. The ship wreck might feel a bit tacked on but I wanted to have that dealt with since I intend for there to be a time skip to the Martell visit to Starfall in the next chapter and then possibly progress as far as the Tourney at Lannisport.

Despite some small personal frustration, I really did enjoy writing this chapter if only for the challenge of dealing with everything that happens at a tourney.

P.S: For those who voted for it in my old poll or just for those who are interested, I have started a HP/Witcher Crossover if you want to check it out.


	5. Chapter 5

AN: As always thank you for your reviews. I always appreciate them. If you had a question and I failed to respond, I apologize. As for the guest reviews...

coldblue: 1) It is possible that he could directly or indirectly cause her to survive. 2)Probably not. 3) You'll find out in this chapter. 4) Unlikely. 5) Yes and Possibly. 6) Possibly 7) Harrion's magic isn't strictly elemental. 8) No. 9) Likely. 10) You'll have to wait and see.

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It was the night of Harrion's first and tenth name day, his eyes moved rapidly beneath his lids as another memory consumed his sleep. In the weeks leading up to the day he'd had ever more frequent memories of his counterpart. Most involved large numbers of letters being delivered to his 'family's' home addressed to Harry Potter in the cupboard beneath the stairs, yet he was never allowed to open a single one. It enraged his 'uncle' to the point where he took his family to a secluded island in the hopes of escaping the deluge of missives.

Harrion watched with rapt attention as the events unfolded before him. It was pouring rain outside as his counterpart lay upon the floor, covered in only a thin blanket, wishing himself a happy birthday. The door to the Dursley's retreat shook with the force of the loud knock on its surface. The walrus like sack of flesh that his counterpart was forced to suffer climbed down the stairs with his horse-necked wife in tow, carrying what Harrion had come to understand was a shotgun. Suddenly, the door broke at its hinges, flying into the room to drop on the floor with a bang.

A man far larger than any Harrion had ever seen stepped into the room, dwarfing all others with his height. His counterpart, far smaller than Harrion was at the same age, looked a toddler compared to the massive man. _Though his… my… small stature is rather unsurprising when all he's ever given to eat is scraps from the meals he makes._ Despite his great size it was clear this man had a kind disposition, and Harrion found it funny how easily he cowed Vernon. As the giant approached Harry's piggish cousin and told him to budge over, he squeaked in fear before hiding behind his mother's legs.

It was then that his black eyes turned to Harry, clear joy in their depths. He presented Harry with a birthday present, a cake to be specific, before introducing himself as Rubeus Hagrid. Harrion could actually feel the surprise at receiving a gift for the first time. Harrion couldn't help put rejoice at finally watching his counterpart be shown some small kindness. Harry experienced nothing but ridicule over the course of his short life; and while Harrion had been forced to live those same experiences, he could wake up in the morning to the embrace of his own parents.

Hagrid sat himself on the musty old couch in the center of the room, and pulled an… umbrella from his coat. The word was foreign to Harrion, but his counterpart knew it well enough. What surprised Harrion was the burst of fire that left the tip and set the wood in the fireplace alight. He… they… stared in wide-eyed fascination at the display. Unlike Harry, Harrion long ago came to understand that he was capable of things that others weren't, that he had magic at his disposal. _Though it appears this is the night that he finally came to understand that very fact._

Hagrid explained that he was the Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts, which meant nothing to either Harry or Harrion. This enraged the massive man, and he thundered at the Dursely's for not telling Harry about his parents, what they'd done, and apparently, that Harry was famous in his own world.

It was then that the giant turned to Harry and explained without preamble, "Harry- yer a wizard."

Shock was the only response Harry could muster, as he gasped out his question, "I'm a what?" Hagrid reiterated what he'd already said before handing Harry a letter, one identical to those he'd been denied by his 'relatives'. Harry read it quickly, disbelief flooding his mind and questions filling him to bursting. Harrion just took it as affirmation of what he'd known for years. They were both surprised to see Hagrid pull a living, breathing owl from his coat before he sent it off with a letter. Apparently these owls knew where to go based on the name written on the letter. _Hmm that's more than a bit better than the ravens._

The events that followed were unpleasant as his 'aunt' finally admitted that she knew all about magic and that his parents hadn't died in a car crash. Again, Hagrid raged when that particular lie came to light, and Harrion wanted very much to join him. For years, he'd been forced to sit in silent anger as Harry was told of his drunken parents who died needlessly, when he knew the truth of the matter. They'd been murdered trying to protect Harry from danger.

Hagrid explained that Voldemort killed Harry's parents and attempted to kill him, something which Harrion already knew, only for the curse to backfire. The conversation that followed was largely uninteresting, though Harrion couldn't help but feel giddy when Hagrid gave Harry's vile cousin a pig's tail as a parting gift. They slept in the hut that night, and it was as Harry fell asleep beneath Hagrid's heavy coat that Harrion found himself waking.

His body was covered in a light sheen of sweat, something that was common whenever he had one of these memory dreams. As he opened his eyes, it became apparent he sun had yet to crest the eastern horizon. He pulled himself from his bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He padded over to his dresser, the only light in his room coming from the moon outside. He quickly divested himself of the soaked shirt he was wearing and replaced it. He grabbed the weathered book resting on his table before making his way to the small balcony in his room that overlooked the courtyard.

He sat down in the chair there and lit the candle that stood nearby. For a long moment, he simply stared up at the star filled sky, noticing the Sword of the Morning constellation in the great expanse of black. His thoughts drifted to what he'd learned in his most recent dream. _After years of suffering at the hands of people I've never met, and will never meet, something of note has finally come of my dreams._ He sighed to himself contentedly. _A school for magic, a place where the arcane is taught; they say such things are all but gone from this world, gone with the Doom. Of course there are rumors of magics still performed in Asshai and Qarth but they are nothing compared to the wonders of the Freehold._

Harry had made a habit of learning all he could of the magics of the world but there was little known about the actual workings of the arcane anymore. So he did what he could with what little he understood of his own abilities. He could now move multiple objects at a time for nearly an hour without tiring. He exercised that ability daily, though he grew frustrated with his inability to use it in a practical situation. But over the last year, he'd found himself learning new things, things thought lost by many.

He looked down at the book in his hands. Its cover was made of worn black leather, and its pages were stiff with age but considering it was nearly a millennium old, it was in impressive condition. For many the words within would hold no meaning, as they were written in the nearly forgotten language of the Rhoynar. In Harrion's opinion, this book had been the most valuable thing scavenged from the shipwreck in the cave, far more valuable than a Valyrian steel dagger. It had been inside the chest he and Ashara dragged back to Starfall together. The airtight chest contained a couple hundred golden coins, and just the one book.

He spent the last two years learning Rhoynish just for the sake of reading it. His mother, Ashara, and even the castle's Maester offered their aid but he refused them, wanting to discover what it had to say for himself. As of now, he'd discovered half of what the old tome contained and couldn't be more pleased with the information.

It detailed the nature of the water magic performed by the Rhoynish; the same magic used to flood Volon Therys in the First Turtle War against the Valyrians, kill three dragons in the Second Spice War, flood the city of Chroyane, and call a mist upon it that caused all caught in its grasp to contract greyscale. To this day that area along the Rhoyne was called the Sorrows.

In most cases such feats required dozens of water mages to perform, but there were smaller things that could be done by an individual. The water could be manipulated and used as a protection; 'watery walls' that could hold with the strength of stone. It could be used as a cloak, to hide and obscure someone from sight, made all the more effective when combined with a fog. It could be used to heal otherwise grievous injury, though it could be daunting to the one performing the deed as the pain would be reflected back three fold. Harry was working diligently to perfect each skill though it was difficult to find the time alone and they were far more difficult than the other magic he'd explored.

But despite his excitement regarding the Rhoynish techniques, he looked forward to experiencing Hogwarts. He hoped seeing a school designed for magic would give him new inspiration for how to approach the subject. _And I hope, given Harry's life, to this point that he finds some happiness there._

With that thought in mind, he turned to the book and began reading. He grew so engrossed with the contents that he didn't even notice the sun as it pushed up along the edge of the landscape, reflecting brightly off the waters of the Torrentine. He was finally interrupted by a soft rapping on his door before it opened to reveal his mother on the other side.

She walked in and rolled her emerald green eyes at him, though there was a slight smile on her lips, "How long have you been up Harrion?"

He smiled at her from where he sat, "Hard to say for sure mother, but probably an hour maybe two."

"You should have been resting, not reading." She chastised, "You read that book enough as it is." She was proud that her son was studious, and knew that he would lose himself in his readings just as she would but with this particular book it could become near obsessive.

"Yes mum," Harry replied contritely as he went back into his room and placed the book on his table. His mother watched him silently, and he felt distinctly uncomfortable after a while, "Is there something you wanted to discuss?" It was odd for his mother to wake him in the morning. He usually woke before his parents and didn't see them until they broke their fast. _Though there have been some moments since getting the book where I had to rush just to be able to arrive for training on time._ Those had been particularly exhausting training sessions.

Lily smiled widely, "No dear," She walked over and hugged him tightly to her, "Besides, knowing that you would likely be late to the yard if I left you to your own devices, I just wanted to be the first to wish you a happy name day." While his mother wasn't short, he was tall for a boy of one and ten, standing of a height with her. Harrion returned his mother's embrace freely. He was aware that many young men his age, found themselves embarrassed by their mother's attentions but he could not bring himself to worry about such things. He loved his parents and seeing his counterpart's unfortunate life, he couldn't bring himself to do anything but appreciate their ever caring presence.

"Thank you, mum." Harry said sincerely, not commenting on the slight wetness in his mother's eyes.

She chuckled slightly, "You're very welcome, Harrion," She straightened her slightly wrinkled dress and wiped at her eyes subtly before grabbing his shoulders and turning him, "Now hurry up, you need to change before you break your fast." He stumbled toward his dresser with a slight shake of his head. His mother went to the door. She paused a moment to tell him, "Your father shall have our present for you." He nodded his understanding and quickly changed before making his way down to the hall for his meal.

Arthur and Arlan were already there, while Ashara was absent. At the age of five and ten, Arthur now stood well over six feet. He kept his silver blonde hair cut just above his shoulders and unlike most young men of his age, his face was clean shaven. His shoulders had widened as he grew, and his arms were thickly muscled from the years spent hefting both greatsword and lance. He looked every bit the impressive knight everyone knew he would become.

To this day, Harry still hadn't beaten the older boy in a fight. In all fairness though, no one else in Starfall could best the younger Dayne either. Even Arlan and Reynard both yielded before his assaults in the yard. However, Harry found himself successful against nearly every other Dayne man at arms of late, and even bested Arlan on a handful of occasions. He was quick, far quicker than most regardless of his age and he used it to his advantage. Harrion looked forward to the day when he finally tested his mettle in a proper melee.

In the past two years, they had attended a dozen more tourneys, some large and some small. Of those twelve, Arthur had been the victor of the melee three more times; though, his most impressive performance came in a defeat. Despite his loss he managed to throw down both Ser Barristan and Ser Gerold before yielding to Lord Jason Mallister. _And had it not been for the exhaustion that came from those exchanges, I have no doubt that he would have managed to beat him in the end._

Arlan thought to knight his brother after that particular victory but stayed his hand at Arthur's insistent; he would be given his knighthood after a victory not a loss. Harry thought his friend foolish in his stubbornness. _Though I suppose, I'm not one to talk when it comes to stubbornness._

Both Arthur and Arlan wished him a happy nameday, as they ate. He had a quick meal of fried eggs and sausage before making his way out into the yard.

His father was standing outside speaking with a man dark of skin he'd never seen before. Reynard excused himself from the conversation before making his way over to his son. He rested his hand on Harry's shoulder and smiled warmly, "Happy nameday, Harrion." He turned and gestured for the man he'd been speaking to, "This is Nesio."

Nesio had dark skin and hard black eyes. His head was clean shaven while he had a closely shaved beard along his jaw. There was a scar that ran along his left cheek and toward his neck. He was of a height with Reynard but slightly narrower in the chest and the shoulders. Above his left shoulder, Harry noticed a pair of jeweled sword hilts jutting up.

"Hello?" He said courteously though with a hint of uncertainty. The man returned the greeting but Harrion's attention was focused on his father, conveying his need for an explanation.

Reynard remained silent, almost goading him, before he relented and indulged his son's curiosity, "You have made it quite clear you have no intention to use a shield when fighting," There was a hint of exasperation in his father's voice, "but you don't have the build to use a greatsword like Arthur. And let's not even talk about your ventures into using a spear." The tips of Harry's ears turned red as his father chuckled at the memory. He would rather not think about the embarrassing attempt. Sufficed to say he did more damage to himself with the weapon than he did anybody across from him.

"However, you showed some talent for using two blades at once." Reynard continued, though the mirth had yet to leave his blue eyes, "Unfortunately, I don't have the necessary experience to train you in such techniques, nor did anyone else here at Starfall." He gestured toward Nesio, "That is why we have employed Nesio. His tutelage is your nameday present from your mother and I, as well as Ulric and Larra." Harry blinked owlishly in shock before embracing his father, surprising him. His thanks were muffled against his father's shoulder.

When Harry pulled away he noticed the deep rumble coming from Nesio as he laughed. He had an accent which Harry wasn't familiar with, "You thank your father now, but I doubt you will be as grateful by the time I am done with you for the day." The warning didn't deter Harry; instead he went and grabbed two practice swords from the stand only hesitating when Nesio's voice reached him, "Only one sword for now, Harrion."

He looked perplexed but did as he was commanded without question. He stood at the ready with the blade in his right hand as Nesio divested himself of clothing from the waist up, revealing deep scars along his chest and abdomen. Nesio attacked without warning and Harry defended without much effort. Scant seconds later, the dark-skinned man pulled back and looked Harrion over with an appraising eye, "Perfect form, good reactions, clearly well-trained, and far beyond where I was at your age;" he commented offhandedly, "but from what I was told this is unsurprising."

Harry couldn't help the small smile forming on his face. He appreciated the praise even if he knew he still had much to learn. Nesio continued with a wolfish grin, "But let us see how you perform with your weapon in the other hand shall we." Harry expected that would be coming next and had no doubt that he was going to be very sore in short order.

Harry put the weapon in his left hand and their blades met again just a second later. Nesio was relentless, his practice blade smacking into Harry's arms, legs, back and abdomen any time he left an opening. He could feel the welts forming beneath the padding of his practice gear. But the pain only spurred the young Reyne on. The beating was tamer than what he experienced at Vernon's hands in his dreams. And this pain was meant to teach a lesson, to make him better, not to tear him down.

After half an hour, Nesio stopped them for a moment and smiled toothily, "You I can work with, boy." He grabbed a second practice sword and began swinging them in tandem almost lazily. "You already know that the sword must be as an extension of your body," Harry nodded at this though it wasn't a question, "In order to master this style, you must be able to do everything with a sword in both your left and right hand. Each must be independent while at the same time knowing exactly what the other is going to do; otherwise you will be as dangerous to yourself as your enemy is to you."

Harrion could understand that much, "Arthur talks about learning how to understand the full reach of his greatsword, lest it cause him to fall off balance and leave his enemy with an opening."

"Yes," Nesio agreed, "It is a similar concept if not exactly the same, a greatsword makes the arm far longer than the average sword and one must account for it. The same can be said when using two swords, only you have two extensions of yourself instead of a single greater one."

Harry furrowed his brow in thought for a moment, "So, I shall be using only one blade until such a time as I can use my left hand with the same ease as my right." Nesio smiled his agreement. Harry continued to voice his thought, "Only once I have managed that task shall I be able to learn to work them in tandem."

"Exactly!" Nesio said emphatically, "I have attempted to train only two others in this particular brand of sword play," He shook his head in obvious disappointment, "and both of my previous students failed miserably; not because of any particular lack of skill but because they lacked the necessary patience." He rumbled a laugh as he thought back, "The first found himself missing a finger when he tried to use a second sword too soon, the other very nearly turned himself into a eunuch."

Harry winced at the thought but quickly schooled his features, "You will find I have the necessary patience," He told the older man confidently, "and more than enough tenacity. If I couldn't handle a challenge I would have stopped sparring with Arthur ages ago."

The man gave a full-bellied laugh, his deep voice ringing in the courtyard, "Something tells me that you are right, boy." They resumed their sparring; Nesio would stop Harry to explain where he went wrong, only after giving him a physical blow to enforce the lesson. The biggest issue for Harry was reconciling the change in footwork with the change in sword hand. _Though the weight isn't anything to scoff at either and my movements need a great deal of refinement._

About two hours in, he noticed Ashara join them in the yard as she took to practicing her archery. Her newest bow was made from ironwood, and had a heavier draw. These days, she could hit the bulls-eye from a hundred yards away without any effort but she continued to practice the craft all the same. He lost focus for a moment as he watched her and received a painful strike along his lower back for his mistake. Even from across the yard, he could see the mirth in Ashara's eyes at his plight and couldn't help the groan that escaped his lips, not from the pain but because he knew she would tease him once he was done in the yard.

"Distractions," Nesio bit out the word, "are often the difference between life and death." He stepped closer and poked Harry firmly in the chest, "Do. Not. Let it happen. Again." Harry nodded firmly as he wiped the beads of sweat from his brow.

They finished an hour later. His new instructor was pleased with his first day of training but assured him that things would only get more difficult. Harrion took the words to heart and looked forward to the challenge. As he placed his practice gear and sword on the rack he felt Ashara's presence beside him, he glanced in her direction and noticed that she had her dark hair slung over a shoulder in an intricate braid. She was smiling at him innocently but he knew it would not last.

He decided to break the silence before she had the opportunity with the hopes of avoiding whatever jibe she might have prepared, "I think you managed another fifteen yards today with the bow; an impressive shot at that." He nodded toward where the weapon rested against the wall, "Soon you shall need yet another new one, as I think you have reached the potential of the ironwood."

She blinked once before smiling genuinely at the complement, "Thank you, but there is little else better than ironwood." She scrunched her nose in displeasure, "The weirwoods are too few in the south for bows of the like to be common place and the Summer Islanders never part with their goldenheart bows."

"I shall have to find a way to retrieve one or the other for you then," Harry said nonchalantly, "You shouldn't be forced to use anything less than what matches your skill."

She stared at him for a long moment, an unreadable expression upon her face before moving closer and embracing him tightly, despite his sweat covered body. She whispered in his ear, "I did not have the opportunity this morning, but happy nameday." When she pulled away, he could see that mischievous glint in her eye and knew that he had only delayed the inevitable, "So how did you enjoy our parents' present?"

Harry considered what would be the best response to that question as she waited expectantly, "It will certainly prove a practical gift if nothing else. And I cannot help but appreciate the thought behind it."

She hummed to herself and rocked back and forth on her feet, "True enough," She poked him in his back drawing a small grunt of discomfort in the process, "but perhaps in the future you should pay more attention to your sword play, instead of my skill with a bow. Then, you might not be black and blue by the end."

 _Ahh there it is, I knew she would manage to get in at some point._ He smiled cheekily in return as he ignored the pain radiating from his back, "But it was such a fine shot, Ashara. A moment's distraction just couldn't be helped."

She wasn't expecting that reply and spluttered for a second before continuing haughtily, "Well, I suppose my skill with a bow is truly awe-inspiring." She flipped her braid over her shoulder, hitting him in the nose in the process, "I don't know if I can blame you." They stared at each other for a moment before falling into raucous laughter. Ashara rested a hand on his shoulder as she controlled herself, "In all seriousness, I am glad that you have a new teacher. I know how badly you wanted to learn the obscure style."

Harry smiled widely, "I honestly couldn't be happier at the moment."

"Oh that's fantastic news!" She said with false excitement, "I suppose you won't need my present then."

"Let's not be too hasty now, Ash," Harry said cautiously, "I am always overjoyed when I receive your gifts."

She huffed from her nose, "Oh, I know." She placed a finger to her chin in thought, "Very well, I suppose I shall still give it to you." He looked at her expectantly and she just shook her head, "Later though, we have lessons with your mother."

He huffed and she just rolled eyes good-naturedly as they separated. He made his way to his quarters so he could bathe before his lessons. He arrived at the appointed hour, though only barely. They spent the next few hours discussing Aegon IV, his unlikely friend in Ser Duncan the Tall, and his even more unlikely rise to the throne. The topic was interesting to say the least, and they talked about the adventures of the strange duo not only in the Seven Kingdoms but in Essos as well, so it kept both Ashara and Harrion's attention.

When they were dismissed for the evening they had another hour before dinner was to be served. Ashara bid him come with her so that she might give him his present. "So," Ashara started as they made their way to her quarters, "have you read the book that Prince Rhaegar gave you yet?" Harrion shook his head slightly and Ashara smirked knowingly, "To busy with the Rhoynish book then?" He smiled sheepishly and she smacked him on the shoulder, "What is it that fascinates you about that old tome?"

"Someday, when I've actually finished it, I might just tell you." Outside of his parents there was no one he would trust more with his secrets than Ashara, and he wouldn't be surprised if one day she knew about more than just the snakes.

The simple admission seemed to appease her but as she went to speak again he cut her off, "But you're right, I ought to read the Prince's gift. The Rhoynish book shall be there for me once I've finished it." It was a small tome detailing the court intrigues of the Valyrian Freehold, something which had always intrigued Harry. In his conversations with Rhaegar, who had become a friend through Arthur, they had discussed the topic. Rhaegar provided him a copy of the exceedingly rare book from his own library.

At times, Harrion didn't know what to make of the young Prince. He was beloved by the smallfolk, far more so than his father, yet he was quiet and prone to introspection. Despite his generous and kindly manner he had few friends, but many admirers. He was quick witted, and talented with both blade and harp yet he would often seem somber as though a terrible thing rested on his mind.

Arthur was better at knowing Rhaegar's mind than anyone else Harrion had yet to meet and the pair would often speak together. Harry knew that while he had grown to have Rhaegar's friendship as few others did, there was no one held in trust like Arthur. _And every noble lord and lady knows it._

"Well, at least it is easy to reason with you… even when you are obsessed." Ashara quipped, pulling him from his thoughts.

"I needed only a kind reminder to pull me from my obsession," Harry admitted without hesitation, as arguing against it would be foolish.

"I was happy to provide such," She smiled, "And I thought it best that I do it before you next find yourself in Rhaegar's company." It was a good point; he was likely to see the Prince at the next tourney.

They reached her quarters a few seconds later where they stepped inside. She pointed at a chair and he dutifully took a seat there keeping his eyes fixed ahead as she rummaged around among her things behind him to retrieve his present.

What she presented to him was not anything he would have expected. The year prior she had given him a new scabbard for his dagger, adorned with the star and sword of House Dayne. As had become the custom with her gifts, she had made it herself, dying the leather the vibrant purple and stitching in her house's sigil. What he looked at now though was something entirely different, something they had talked about only in passing.

It was a tunic meant to be worn over armor, multiple such tunics in fact, and bigger than he would be able to wear for some years yet. The cloth was silver and sewed in black upon it was a proud rampant lion, emerald green done for the eyes, while its tail forked into two snakes, one attempting to devour the other. Directly above the lion was a single violet star. He couldn't believe what he was looking at. _I expected a new shirt, like the one she made me on my ninth nameday, not something like this._

Something about gift-giving always seemed to rattle Ashara's nerves, particularly when she made the gift herself. She took his silence as a bad sign and started rambling, "I know we only talked briefly about what your personal sigil would be someday, given that it would be almost impossible for you to reclaim the red lion of House Reyne, and that you would need to take a new one when you're knighted. But I couldn't get this image out of my mind after our discussion and it just seemed to suit you so well… what with your being able to speak to snakes and your having lived in Starfall for years and being a lion despite…"

She trailed off immediately when Harry did as he always did when she started rambling about her gifts, he leaned in and embraced her tightly, "You always surprise me with your gifts, Ash, and this year is no different." He kissed her lightly on her cheek and couldn't help but notice the slight blush on her cheeks as he pulled away. He didn't comment and instead grabbed the silken garment from where it lay before him. _It will be such a shame to turn these to tatters in melees and tilts._

A ghost of a smile came to his lips as he turned to her, "It's funny, this is just how imagined it in my mind as well."

She beamed victoriously, her violet eyes alive with happiness, "You are happy with them then?"

Harry rolled his eyes in slight exasperation, "I have never once disliked one of your gifts, Ash, and I doubt I ever will." She pouted cutely and he relented, "But if you must know, yes, I am more than happy with them." He looked her in the eye, "And someday, whether I happen to miraculously reclaim Castamere or not, this will be my personal sigil." The thought of reclaiming Castamere held some appeal to him, but he had no inclination of how to approach such a task.

"Well of course it will," She told him with a false arrogance, "I sowed it for you, and my work is exquisite." He poked her in her side, causing her to squeak indignantly and jump away from the offending digit.

"Sometimes, you make complimenting you far more difficult than it needs to be." Harrion told her causing them both to chuckle. The rest of the day, while pleasant proved uneventful. As Harrion lay his head against the pillow that night, he couldn't help some excitement for the possibilities of the coming days.

* * *

Harrion sat along the edge of the Torrentine, his left hand running through the current, glowing slightly as he healed a cut he received earlier in the day while training. It was only a tiny thing, received from Nesio when he over reached on one of his attacks. The thrice returned pain was barely even noticed.

In the year and a half since the sword masters arrival, Harry's ability with the sword style had grown considerably. There was no longer anything he could do with his right arm that he could not do with his left, and nothing with he could with his left arm that he could not do with his right. As a result, for the past two months Harrion worked with a sword in both hands and found success.

But he did not focus solely on swordplay, no, his magic had progressed nicely as well. He'd finished the old Rhoynish tome after almost three years of reading. He could form water walls strong enough to withstand assault, obscure himself from view in the dark of night, though failed quite miserably during the day, and as evidenced by his now unmarred skin, could heal minor wounds.

Despite his success with magic, he could not help a sense of disappoint in the magic he'd witnessed in his dreams. The night after his eleventh nameday, Harrion watched as his counterpart traveled to Diagon Alley. He could admit himself impressed by the sum of gold left by his parents for his well-being and education, even if he found the goblins to be miserly bastards. That Hagrid retrieved an important package with Harry in tow was a surprise but understandable.

After a whirlwind of shopping that did nothing but bore Harrion, save meeting a rather pretentious blonde haired boy who needed a good clout on the ears, he found himself in a wand shop. _A wand shop for gods sakes. The Rhoynar didn't need wands, nor did the Valyrians, and neither do I._

What followed was an uncomfortable quarter of an hour with an extremely strange man until Harry finally received the brother wand to the Voldemort's. Harrion thought that he may very well be unable to explore the magic of his counterpart given his lack of a wand but decided to wait and see what would happen.

What used to be an intermittent occurrence became a nightly one. Every night he would watch as another life played out before his eyes. The train ride where he met Ronald Weasley, yet another unpleasant encounter with Draco Malfoy, meeting the bookish Hermione Granger, and the sorting hat. _It seems I am always meant to be a lion with a snake's tongue._ Not to mention actually seeing Hogwarts for the first time, for Harry it was awe-inspiring but Harrion had seen more impressive castles in his time. _Highgarden and the Red Keep just to name a couple._

The year that followed would at times baffle Harrion. _I swear there is less danger of death at a tourney than there is at that school._ The troll, the broom incident, the three-headed dog, the dragon, the forest, and then the stone; it seemed that Harry was constantly in danger… in between his regular lessons which proved surprisingly underwhelming to this point. Harry already had far more control over levitation than anything Professor Flitwick taught, and turning a needle into a matchstick was pointless. He lacked the potions ingredients necessary for that class to be of any use, not to mention, like his counterpart, he found himself apathetic to the course thanks to the dour man who held a deep-seated hatred of Harry for no apparent reason.

But there were some small bits of useful information to be gained. _The lighting charm has been useful, as have the flames._ Harrion found the words associated with these spells of little use though and would instead follow his instinct and will these things to happen. _What would be nice is if I had a bit more ambition to actually **learn.** Maybe then I would have learned more worthwhile magic. _Harrion snorted derisively to himself. _I really wish I could reach into my dreams and bash my and Ron's head together. Who in the seven hells complains about learning magic?_

Still Harrion couldn't help but rejoice at Harry's newfound friendships. And despite his disappointment at what knowledge could be taken from the dreams, he found himself exhilarated by the actual adventures. _And I am the first person in nearly a century to see a living dragon! Even if it was much smaller than the Targaryen dragons._

And then there was saving the stone… from the man who'd murdered his parents! Harrion found it passing odd that the traps set against Ron, Hermione and himself could all be beaten by eleven year olds but that passed away easily enough when he came face to face with the stuttering Professor Quirrell, who taught seemingly nothing of value. _I knew there was something wrong with the bastard._ Harry felt fear and rage in equal parts when he came face to face with his parent's murderer. Harrion couldn't help but feel triumphant when the bastard burned to dust at his touch, though it was tempered by the shade that remained.

The conversation that came with Professor Dumbledore in the following dream told Harrion only one thing of importance, the man knew more than he said.

The summer that followed, Harrion still had trouble believing they experienced four distinct seasons over the course of a year, proved less enjoyable than the dangerous school year. _Though at least there was no being forced into a cupboard anymore._ He couldn't help but feel disappointment when his friends didn't write him back, nor could he restrain the urge to throttle the tiny, eccentric house elf who stole his letters. _In all fairness, he seems to have good intentions… just extremely poor execution._

The midnight rescue by the Weasleys was ill thought out… and absolutely brilliant. The Burrow was far from the beauty of Starfall, but it had its charms. Harrion found the young girl's timid behavior strange… but he was also accustomed to Ashara's bold personality. Another trip to Diagon Alley, which included a rather uncomfortable photoshoot with the pretentious Gilderoy Lockhart, eventually ended in a brawl between Lucius Malfoy and Arthur Weasley after a childish exchange of words with Draco. _And then the elder Malfoy slipped something into Ginny's cauldron._ Sometimes Harrion really wished his counterpart was just a bit more observant, it would save him a great deal of trouble.

The start of his new term of school proved just as dangerous as his last. After the barrier to their train sealed itself, Ron and Harry idiotically decided to take a flying car that neither of them knew how to drive… and then proceeded to crash into a Whomping Willow. _And what in the seven hells does a school need a combative tree for anyway… maybe they actually want to kill students… weed out the weak._ Somehow the pair only received detention, which would prove terrible as he was subject to the company of the incompetent Professor Lockhart.

Classes resumed, he sat through them and found tiny bits of magic worth trying to reproduce… and then Halloween came, and the petrification of the caretaker's cat, Mrs. Norris. Harrion could hear the voice in the walls just like Harry, but he realized easily what it must have been immediately… _a snake, and a large one I would guess._ The school went into a bit of panic, more because of the warning written in blood on the wall than anything.

The Quidditch match against Slytherin proved entertaining… and extremely painful. _If I could, I would kill that stupid bastard Lockhart... I never want to regrow bones ever again._ The rogue bludger that nearly killed him was the work of the same house elf who tried 'helping' him in the summer. But what proved most interesting was the second petrification.

His most recent dream left a bitter taste in his mouth. Lockhart thought to host a dueling club, which did little to impress Harrion. _They have magic at their disposal and most squires could likely kill them without much trouble with nothing more than sword in hand._ He was less than impressed with the fighting skills of those of an age with him to say the least, particularly with Harry's. _You have an extremely powerful murderer out for your blood and you don't think to train as hard as you can?_ But what left him truly upset was the stigma that came with parseltongue, and the accusing looks that came after it was revealed that Harry had the ability.

Harrion shook himself from his thoughts of another life and glanced to his left, and his mind turned toward more sullen thoughts. In the dirt sat a large black stone, carved into a perfect circle with one simple word etched into its surface, Upir.

The old snake had been a friend for years but time had finally taken its toll. His death had been expected but unpleasant all the same, he felt it only fitting that there be some sort of monument for the helpful serpent. Ashara meant to be there when he placed the stone but pressing matters kept her within Starfall. _I should probably return soon, lest my mother come and get me._

With a sigh, Harry stood and turned toward the castle but stopped upon seeing Nesio walking toward him. His deep voice carried over the murmur of the river, "Lady Ashara told me I would find you here, Harrion." He waved a hand, "Come, Lord Dayne's guest shall be arriving soon."

While Harrion respected his teacher immensely, it was rare that they ever shared words outside of the training yard, and even those were few and far between, "I was just preparing to make my way back."

"So I could see." Nesio turned his back to Harry and they walked together in silence for a few long minutes before Harry decided to break it.

"You are never the sort to discuss yourself," He started hesitantly, unsure how his questions would be received, "but I find myself curious, where are you from?"

"We've trained together for more than a year." He shrugged his shoulders, "What difference does it make now?"

"None," Harry admitted, "But I still find myself curious."

Nesio eyed him, weighing his next words before speaking, "You will have no doubt noticed the scars upon my back from our many days training together." Harrion nodded as the man continued more softly than he'd ever spoken before, "I received them at the end of a lash, at a time when I was nothing more than a slave in the Basilisk Isles."

Harry didn't know how to respond. Given the many scars on the man's body, he'd always had suspicions but to hear it put so bluntly wasn't something he expected. "How did you see yourself free?" _Best not to_ _dwell on the unfortunate past._

Nesio clenched his jaw and Harry thought he'd pressed too far but the man continued, "I was sold to an owner of great warriors," He scoffed, "or so I was told. The man provided fodder against real warriors in the fighting pits of Slaver's Bay." He smiled almost cruelly, "I refused to die at my appointed hour, and instead took the life of half a dozen men. I made a habit of it for the next three years and became known as the demon of the pits."

"There are worse titles to have," Harry quipped in the hopes it would lighten his tutor's mood.

He was pleased that it drew a chuckle. "I suppose that is true, but it isn't quite as gallant as the Sword of the Morning."

"Something tells me gallantry was the least of your concerns when in the fighting pits," Harry spoke quietly but it was heard all the same.

"No, you're right," Nesio agreed evenly, "I worried only about my survival." He shook his head, "But you asked how I saw myself free." His eyes looked distant as he continued, "I cut down dozens, even hundreds of men over my years in the pits. I climbed a pile of bodies, surrounded by a river of blood to freedom." He ran his hand over a scar on his left shoulder, "I won the final bout in a tournament held in honor of the Wise Masters of Yunkai. The crowd was so enthralled with my performance that I was granted freedom."

"Does that happen often?" Harry questioned.

"No," he replied succinctly, unwilling to elaborate any further.

"What did you do after?" He prodded as they neared the gates of Starfall.

"All I have ever known is the sword, Harry." The simple truth didn't seem to bother the former slave, "So, I did what came naturally, I sold it. Sometimes it would be to one of the sell-sword companies in Essos and other times as a teacher." He gave Harry a look as they entered Starfall's courtyard. Harry pressed no further and they said farewell before going their separate ways.

Harrion quickly made his way to his room and bathed before changing into doublet and trousers. As he buttoned up his shirt, the door to his room opened and his mother and father came in. They both smiled at him in his finery. Reynard wormed his arm around Lily's waist as they watched him. His father made to speak but Harrion cut him off.

"Yes father, I know." Harrion started with a slight roll of his eyes, "Do not mention, you or mum under any circumstances. I am well aware of the story I need to adhere to; I have told it enough times, after all." He smiled cheekily as his father's mouth snapped shut and continued before his mother had the chance to reprimand him, "Furthermore, I am to be on my best behavior, speak only when spoken to, and to follow any direction given to me by Larra or Ulric without question." He waved his hand dismissively, "Though I am still to act in accordance with my prior interactions with Oberyn and Elia."

He turned to look at his parents and found them glaring at him in apparent anger, but the slight upturn of their lips betrayed their amusement at his antics. He gave them an unrepentant grin and managed to pull a chuckle from his parents. Reynard stepped forward and put his hands on Harrion's shoulders, "Well seems you were listening a bit more intently than we thought." Lily snorted in disbelief behind them but her eyes shown with mirth.

Harry chuckled, "Probably more than you thought but not necessarily as much as I should." He shrugged his shoulders slightly, "I've been playing this game for years now. I know what can and can't be said."

Lily moved next to him and kissed his temple, "We know, Harrion, and we trust you but it helps assuage our worry."

He had no problem indulging his parents, he honestly just wished they could join him in welcoming the Martells but knew what danger it might present. _They are to venture to Casterly Rock in short order, and it would not do for them to have the Reynes fresh in their minds._ As such, Reynard would be taking Lily to High Hermitage for three weeks at Ulric's command. Reynard was meant to inspect the soldiers trained there and in the meanwhile, Harrion and Ashara would have a reprieve from their lessons.

Reynard pulled away and grabbed his wife's hand, "Come, we must depart love, the Martells arrive within the hour." Lily nodded and hugged her son one more time before relenting to her husband's pull and leaving the room. The sun was slowly setting in the west as he watched their boat travel down the Torrentine from the Palestone Sword until he heard a call from the guards. The Martells would arrive at the castle in just minutes.

He quickly made his way down to the courtyard and joined the rest of the Dayne household. Larra and Ulric stood side by side. Larra wore a silver dress that appeared almost as though it flowed with her long, unencumbered hair. Ulric and Garlan wore simple black doublets with their houses sigil upon the breast. Arlan was on his father's right looking like a younger mirror to the elder Dayne.

To Arlan's right Arthur stood clad in armor, unlike his brother. The younger Dayne, now an anointed knight, wore his chainmail, gauntlets, pauldrons, and studded trousers with a brand new tunic upon his chest. On his back sat the greatsword, Dawn. The most recent Sword of the Morning received the ancestral blade when Arlan knighted him some six months prior. Arlan, having tired of actually competing in tourneys, instructed Harry to take over duties as Arthur's squire. It really wasn't much of a change for the younger boy.

To Larra's left was Ashara, wearing a sleeveless dress the same shade as her eyes. It was modest but revealed a fact Harry quite deliberately ignored most days as they spent time together; Ashara was growing into a truly beautiful young woman. The smooth material hugged at the subtle curve of her hip and the bodice accentuated the slight swell of her chest. On her arm she wore the armband he'd bought her at their first tourney and in her hair was a silver piece with interconnected gems like starbursts that contrasted with her braided raven-locks, which he gave her for her last nameday. He didn't even notice that he was staring until he felt her gaze on him; he met her eyes for a moment and resisted the urge to blush before walking to stand beside Arthur.

The young knight smirked down at Harry as he passed by, "It is good of you to join us, Harrion. Mother was beginning to think it would be best to send Ashara after you like a bloodhound."

"Apologies," Harry said earnestly, "I was seeing my parents off." Arthur's response was cut off as the Martells entered the courtyard. Laughing loudly, Princess Elia and Prince Oberyn rode in upon black Dornish sand horses, flanking their mother's small palanquin as twenty of their household guard followed in their wake. Elia and Oberyn dismounted as Princess Aliandra exited her palanquin. The three approached the Daynes side by side.

Ulric offered them a warm smile, "Princess Aliandra," he leaned down to kiss her hand, courteously, "welcome to Starfall. We are happy to host House Martell."

Aliandra smirked, "Ulric, I appreciate the pleasantries, but we have known each other for decades… and we are Dornish." She gestured with her hands, "Come, greet an old friend properly." Ulric relented without complaint and hugged the aging ruler of Dorne tightly, as did Larra.

Ulric turned to the younger Martells, "Elia, Oberyn it is a pleasure seeing you again."

Elia curtsied and offered their shared sentiments, "It is ours as well, Lord Dayne."

Aliandra nodded her head firmly and grasped Larra at the elbow, "Right, now that is out of the way. Come, we haven't talked in years and I tire of this heat." Larra chuckled as the two women retreated inside with Ulric and Arlan close at hand.

Elia moved over to Ashara and hugged her firmly, "It is good to see you again, Ashara. It's been nearly a year since the last we saw each other." Her fingers glided through the younger girl's hair and rested a moment on the gems interspersed there, "This is lovely, where did you get it?"

Ashara gave a small smile and glanced in Harry's direction, "It was a gift for my last nameday. Harry gave it to me."

"Ahhh," Elia nodded knowingly, "I should have guessed. You did say in your letters that he gives the best gifts." She giggled at the slight scowl that marred the younger girl's lips.

"I did tell you that," Ashara admitted, keeping her gaze firmly fixed on Elia, "but not about this particular gift."

"It would seem this one only makes it all the more true," Elia retorted happily, "But I shall have to see the weirwood bow you rave about as well."

Ashara smiled thinking on her cherished possession, "I look forward to showing it to you." She grabbed Elia's hand and started leading her away, "Tomorrow though, you arrived late in the day and we shall feast soon."

The pair talked in quieter tones then, and their voices didn't carry to Harrion's ears, that is until Elia looked over her shoulder and called out, "It was good seeing you again, Arthur, Harry, we shall talk later." Arthur waved after her while Harry just smirked at Ashara's behavior.

Oberyn stepped so that he was standing next to Harry and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, "So you give the best gifts?" Harry eyed him warily, and shrugged noncommittally, "I should be offended then. Have we not been friends for years now young Harry?" He questioned rhetorically and clutched at his chest in mock pain, "And yet I have never received a single gift from you."

Harry made to reply but was interrupted by a snort from Arthur, "Harry isn't acquainted with whores, Prince Oberyn. So beyond providing you with a fancy new spear, which I'm sure you are already plenty well equipped, there is nothing he could provide of any interest to you."

Oberyn looked affronted for a moment, "You wound me, ser. He could have provided me a fine bottle of wine, or a new book." He shook Harry's shoulders smiling his roguish smile, "I do have interests beyond women and blood." Arthur and Harry each raised a skeptical eyebrow but Oberyn paid them little mind.

"I am afraid that my gifts wouldn't be the best if it were a simple book or bottle of wine, Prince Oberyn." He pushed Oberyn's arm from his shoulder patting his forearm almost condescendingly, "I am sorry, but I have a reputation to uphold." There was a pregnant pause as Oberyn looked at him in mild disbelief before all three broke out in laughter.

Oberyn brought himself under control, "Well, I would not want you to sully your good reputation." He looked around the walls a moment and looked to Arthur, "It is a beautiful castle, Arthur. I feel I shall like it best of the places we are meant to visit."

"My father would be happy to hear such words, I am sure." He turned toward the door and gestured for Oberyn to follow, "Come, my sister was right. Dinner shall be served soon and I assume you should like to relax beforehand."

The trio made their way through the doors of the castle before Oberyn spoke again, "So tell me Arthur, how does it feel earning the title Sword of the Morning?"

"It has been a dream of mine since blade was put in hand for the first time, when I barely stood higher than my father's knee," He spoke softly, slowly as he thought of the achievement, "To have earned my knighthood and Dawn along with it feels… fantastic. I can think of no other way of describing the realization of a lifelong goal."

"It is well deserved, my friend, well deserved indeed." Oberyn glanced at the greatsword on Arthur's back, "Shall we see Dawn in any melees in future?"

"No," Arthur told him firmly, "Dawn is meant for blood and battle, not sport. I shall participate in the lists from now on but nothing more."

"A shame," Oberyn responded, "though, I am of a similar mind of late." He rubbed his chin, "But with your absence I might finally stand a chance at victory. You have seen my end in six melees now?"

Arthur chuckled, "Seven, if my count is correct." He looked at Harry out of the corner of his eye, "But I believe your confidence comes over soon. My squire shall participate in my absence."

Oberyn's dark eyes looked Harry up and down, before he waved a hand dismissively, "He shall be no problem." The smile on his lips betrayed his good nature though.

"You have yet to see me fight, Prince Oberyn. You have no idea what sort of problem I can be." Harry's stony delivery drew a wide-eyed look from Oberyn and a nod from Arthur.

Oberyn smiled wolfishly, "I would have demonstration, tomorrow in the yard."

Harrion looked him in the eye, "You shall have it then."

"You have always had a sharp wit about you, Harry," Oberyn said approvingly, "I look forward to seeing if you are half as good with a blade."

That night a feast was served in the halls of Starfall but there was no high table; all just sat together. Musicians played a bevy of jaunty tunes as toasts were made in honor of the castle's noble guests. Elia sat between Ser Arlan and Arthur. Ashara sat beside her younger brother with Oberyn by her side and Harrion by his; it was a distinctly Dornish trait to not even bat an eye when a common born squire sat at a table with high lords. Harry was unsurprised by the seating arrangement given that it was well known the entire purpose of the Martell journey was to find suitable matches for the two youngest of the house.

Elia and Arlan talked pleasantly together, but more than once he heard them break words about Lady Elinor Penrose, a flaxen-haired, blue-eyed woman of four and twenty who caught Arlan's eye at more than one tourney they'd attended. _It bodes ill for a potential match when they are speaking openly about other women._ Not that Harry would expect any differently, they differed by more than a decade in age and it was clear they respected one another but nothing more.

Meanwhile, Arthur and Elia's conversations were more natural, more personal and while Harry suspected they held some affection for one another, he could not say for sure or to what extent. _They would certainly make a more likely pairing. And yet it could never happen, he is the second son and she is the only daughter of a Great House._

The thought gave him pause as he glanced at Oberyn and Ashara beside him. They laughed together freely, Oberyn making lewd remarks that made the younger girl blush prettily, but Harry could see her slight discomfort at some his more ribald remarks and a bit of distaste at the amount of wine Oberyn imbibed.

He was pulled from his thoughts by a slap on his shoulder, "Come, Harry, we are feasting and you are sitting there as lifeless as a stone." Oberyn poured more wine into the still mostly filled cup in front of him, "Drink with me, my friend."

Harrion smirked, "I would not have my senses dulled on the morrow," he pushed Oberyn in the shoulder and watched him sway slightly in his seat, "I mean to best you in the yard."

Oberyn barked a laugh, "I could fight you now and the result would be the same," He took another swig of wine, "You spend too much time in Arthur's company, it seems as though nothing can dent the steel that one is made of."

Ashara hummed in displeasure beside him, drawing Oberyn's attention, "Your insinuation isn't appreciated in regards to either Arthur or Harry."

Oberyn bowed his head dramatically, "I apologize, my Lady. I meant no offense."

She rolled her eyes at his antics before turning them to Harry, a dangerous glint in them, "You shall have to show him the error of his ways tomorrow."

"If that is what my Lady desires, it shall be done." He smiled widely causing her to giggle softly. The tinkling quality made him repress the urge to blush. He was saved from further conversation as Ulric stood and addressed the Hall.

"A delicious feast, with good company," There were cheers of approval from the gathered people, "but I find my hospitality wanting." He gestured toward a servant near a door and three more entered, each carrying a gift.

"How wonderful!" Oberyn exclaimed over the muted noise of the hall, "I expected no such favors." Ulric smiled even as Elia cuffed her brother over the back of the head drawing laughs from everyone.

Ulric resisted the urge to laugh along with the crowd as he handed the first gift to Princess Aliandra and explained its significance , "A shipwreck was found along the Torrentine some years ago by Harry and Ashara, the ship was one of Nymeria's ten thousand" They both shrunk back ever so slightly as all attention fell on them, "Within was a book detailing the water magics of the Rhoynar," Aliandra looked all the more interested at these words, "This is a translated copy of that same book."

The Princess stood and offered a short bow, "A valuable gift, one that is deeply appreciated; even if it was unexpected."

Ulric smiled before continuing, "For Princess Elia," He indicated an intricately woven necklace of red gold, "this was crafted from the gold found within that same ship." She took it delicately from the pillow it rested on, and asked Arthur to help her clasp it around her neck. He handled her dark curls with care as he did as she bid.

"It is beautiful, Lord Dayne," She fingered the piece with obvious approval.

"Books and necklaces, perhaps my excitement was premature," He whispered so that only Harry and Ashara could hear. They both gave him a withering look as Ulric presented the last gift.

"And finally, a shield, light despite the iron covering its surface, and bearing Nymeria's red sun." He offered it to Oberyn, who stood and strapped it to his arm, testing the weight of it.

"Aye," He said nodding, "this will do nicely."

Ulric clapped his hands and sat back down and the noise rose steadily in the room again. The festivities lasted only a short while longer before all made their way to their quarters and sleep took them for the night.

The next morning, Harrion arose early, broke his fast and met Arthur and Nesio in the yard where they trained for nearly an hour before Oberyn joined them, Ashara and Elia just behind him.

Oberyn smiled that roguish smile, "I apologize for my lateness gentlemen, but I imbibed a fair bit more wine than was perfectly necessary last night."

"Really, I never would have guessed," Harrion quipped sarcastically, earning a quick smack from Arthur though he couldn't hide his own amusement.

The prince looked at the weapons in Harry's hands, "I was not aware that you favored such an uncommon style, I would have thought you for the greatsword like Arthur, or the shield like Arlan." It was a fair assumption and one Harry hoped to exploit. And while Harry had become adequate with other weapons and styles, he would always favor two swords.

"Arlan and Lord Ulric kindly hired a tutor for the style when I showed interest," He smirked slightly, "I look forward to demonstrating the results."

Oberyn laughed slightly, "Shall we begin then?" Harrion nodded confidently and took a place across from the prince as he went to retrieve a spear and small round-shield.

The young Reyne had long since adopted Nesio's practice of going bare-chested in practice, particularly in the sweltering heat of the Dornish summer. The light of the sun played across the sweat slicked surface of his wiry muscles. He would never be as large as Arthur, but he was well-defined for a boy of two and ten. There were a few faint scars lining his chest from where Arthur or Nesio struck him in the past. They were lessons that he chose not to heal with the waters.

Harrion watched with determined eyes as Oberyn tested the weight of the spear and spun it around with impressive fluidity and grace. He'd seen the prince do much the same at tourneys in the past so paid it little mind, knowing it was as much for show as anything else.

Oberyn stood across from him and smiled cockily, "This will end when you yield."

Harrion clenched his jaw once, "Or when you do." Oberyn's smile became predatory as he lashed out with the spear.

Harry reacted immediately and stepped back, letting the blade pass him by without any injury. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them. He slashed at Oberyn's shoulder with his left hand only to have the strike met by the shaft of the spear. He used the sword in his right hand to stab at the prince's leg but he danced away using the butt of his spear to try and strike Harry in the back in the process, only for him to be gone before the blow could connect.

As Harry turned to face Oberyn again, he was forced to jump over a sweeping swing of the spear and then shift as his opponent reared back and stabbed at his shoulder. Harry batted the spear downward with his right hand and stabbed with his left only for metal to meet metal as his thrust met Oberyn's shield with a solid clang. The blow sent Oberyn stumbling backward, and a short laugh escaped his lips, "Perhaps my words yesterday were spoken too quickly." He brought the spear down in a wide arc that Harry sidestepped easily, "I should have expected someone who's spent years training with the Sword of the Morning to pose a proper challenge."

Harry didn't acknowledge the compliment and instead pressed an attack. He was a flurry of movement, each strike landing where he meant. Oberyn was forced to backpedal and defend as Harry reigned down his blows. He batted the older man's shield aside leaving his chest open. Lifting his leg, he kicked out and sent Oberyn tumbling into the dirt of the courtyard with a thump. As he brought his sword down to end the match, the prince rolled away before springing back up quickly. Oberyn coughed before smirking, "Wrong indeed."

They continued in that manner for another fifteen minutes before things finally finished. Harrion winced as he felt the edge of the spear cut across his cheek but he paid it little mind as he once more pushed the spear toward the ground on the follow through. This time he managed to pin it there for just a moment longer, buying the time necessary to bring his other sword down against the shaft, snapping it in two. Without the leverage of the spear, Oberyn stumbled forward and attempted to knock Harry to the ground with his shield. Harry avoided it and kicked Oberyn's leg out from under him. He let out a pained breath as the air left his lungs and then stilled as he felt the tip of a sword at his throat.

He smiled good naturedly, "It would seem I have been bested. Yield." Harry smiled triumphantly before leaning down to help him to his feet. The prince clapped Harry on the shoulder with one hand, as he rubbed at his back with the other, "That was quite enjoyable my friend. I look forward to the day you participate in the melee."

They walked over to Arthur who looked a little smug, which was a rare thing for the knight. Oberyn just shook his head, "Oh, stuff it. You were right."

A soft hand turned Harry's shoulder and he felt a cool cloth applied to the cut on his cheek. Ashara stood there with her weirwood bow slung across her back, looking pleased with the outcome of the battle as Elia was chuckling beside her. When she pulled the cloth away from his face she did her best imitation of a curtsey given she was wearing trousers before speaking, "You have done as I bid, kind ser, and I thank you."

Harry gave her an exaggerated bow and surprised her when he grasped her hand and kissed the back, bringing a hint of color to her cheeks, "It was a pleasure, my Lady."

Elia's shoulders shook as she tried to contain her amusement at their antics. She gasped a quick breath to calm herself, "We quite enjoyed the show," She looked in her brother's direction mirth dancing in her eyes, "I love my brother dearly, but there are times where he needs to be knocked on his arse and I haven't been able to do it myself for years." She said it loud enough for him to hear and he stuck his tongue out childishly causing them all to laugh.

They broke apart then, the boys training while the two ladies spent a time firing at the targets in the yard. Elia proved a poor shot and while Ashara attempted to offer advice, it did little help. They stopped when Elia nearly hit poor Lucas… ten yards from the target. However, Elia did prove skilled in the use of a whip. When Ashara attempted the same, her yelp rang through the courtyard as she cracked across her own bum. Elia took it from her gingerly then, earning a glare from the younger girl before they retreated to the comfort of the castle.

For five days the Martells enjoyed the hospitality of the Starfall. On their last day there the younger Martells wished to visit the location of the Rhoynish ship from which their gifts were taken. The sun was nearing the western horizon as Elia's laughter carried across the banks of the Torrentine and back to where Harry and Ashara watched as she beat both Oberyn and Arthur in a horserace.

As they joined them where they stopped atop the sandy hill, Elia's voice met them, "Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning," she said loftily, "Beaten by a mere woman in a race, I wonder if I might be able to beat you in a joust?" She poked him in the chest teasingly.

"No doubt you would be a fierce competitor, princess," Arthur responded his indigo eyes locked with her shining brown, "But you are half my size, and only beat me by head, maybe two. I would not be quite so confident in your jousting skills."

Elia coughed lightly, "You will just need to teach me then ser, with such a renowned knight as my teacher I shall be able to best Ser Barristan in mere months." They both chuckled at the bold claim before settling back into the sand.

The princess sighed as she let the warm sand slide through her fingers, "I do not look forward to our departure on the morrow. I shall miss this place."

"It shall miss you as well, my Lady," Arthur spoke quietly, almost to himself, though his voice carried in the stillness of the twilight.

"I shall miss it as well," Oberyn spoke up loudly, "in case anybody was wondering."

Arthur smirked and turned to Oberyn, "I'm not so sure how Starfall will feel about your departure." Oberyn clutched at his chest as if injured but then shrugged his shoulders in defeat. The five of them sat there watching the sunset in silence until it had nearly fallen beneath the horizon.

Arthur stood then and offered his hand to Elia, "Come, your mother shall worry if we do not return soon." She nodded and allowed him to help her up. They made quick work of the journey back, and when they were within a few hundred yards of Starfall, Oberyn proposed yet another race. Arthur and Ashara agreed while Harrion and Elia remained behind.

They watched the three shrink slowly as they raced away from them. Elia coughed before turning to look at Harry as they trotted along, "This must be the first time we have ever been alone together." Harry nodded, unsure how to respond to the comment. She focused on him for a long moment without speaking, "Tell me, how is it that you came by the weirwood bow?"

Harry turned to look at her, his eyebrow raised in surprise. _Well that certainly wasn't what I was expecting. Still there is no harm in telling the story I suppose._ "We were in the capital for the tourney held in honor of King Aerys' tenth year on the throne." He rubbed at the back of his neck, "Rather foolishly, I decided to venture into the city alone and happened upon a northerner playing dice outside an inn along Eel Alley. He took any willing to best him at the game, wagering his weirwood bow against a golden dragon."

Elia had one eyebrow raised in question, "A dragon? You happened to have a dragon with you? And willingly wagered it?"

Harrion smirked slightly, "That ship Ashara and I found carried a considerable sum of gold. As its founder, Ulric ensured I was given an appropriate sum for the discovery." He shrugged, "As to the wager, it was a small price to pay knowing that should I win, I would make Ashara immeasurably happy." In truth, Harry did something untoward to ensure his victory. A small bit of magic saw him win without issue. _And it was hard to feel bad when the dice were weighted to begin with._ The look on the man's face proved priceless as well.

"Immeasurably happy seems an apt way of describing her reaction to that bow," Elia chuckled, "I remember the letter I received from her after you gifted it to her; I doubt she has ever been happier." She smiled slyly in Harry's direction, "It is her most cherished possession."

"She is a talented archer," Harry said fondly, "I wish only that I could have found a goldenheart bow for her use, but they are never allowed from the Summer Isles."

"Practical," Elia commented, "but as you said that wasn't the reason you found that bow for her, nor the reason you wagered a dragon to ensure it would be hers. You did it because you care about her and her happiness." She looked at him, "Had you lost, how many golden dragons would you have sacrificed before you admitted defeat?"

"As many as were in my coin purse," He responded without hesitation.

She seemed pleased by that answer, "As I would have guessed," She coughed into her hand before continuing, "I am very fond of Ashara and believe she is lucky to have you in her life." Harry blushed slightly but did not comment. Elia's smile widened at his discomfort, "You know it is a funny thing," She commented conversationally, "my mother tells me that Lady Larra seems reluctant to discuss any sort of arrangement for Ashara… and I mean for any suitor, not just Oberyn. Though Oberyn's wife has all but been decided." She said the last to herself more than Harry.

Harry fidgeted uncomfortably in his saddle, "I would not be privy to such things." He sought to change the subject, "Who shall Oberyn wed?"

"Oh," Elia smiled but it did not reach her eyes, "Joanna Lannister and my mother agreed some years ago that Cersei would be his bride; though, I doubt that Lord Tywin is in agreement."

Harrion fell silent remembering the time he saw Princess Aliandra and Joanna speak together at the Tourney at Ashford. They neared the gates of Starfall before he spoke again, "Princess Elia, if you could choose for yourself who would you wed?"

Elia smiled sadly, "I would not say Harry, for it is not my choice… not really. Sometimes we must do things even if it they against our own heart." That was all she had to say on the matter, so Harry let things lie. They dismounted and took their horses to the stables before parting to prepare for leaving feast.

The following morning, Harry stood in the courtyard to bid the Martells a final farewell.

"Ulric," Princess Aliandra started with a soft smile on her lined face, "Starfall's hospitality was nothing short of wonderful." She turned to Larra, "And I look forward to seeing you again, my dear. Hopefully, it will not be years in the coming." She turned and entered her palanquin.

Elia hugged Ashara and they shared whispered words before she stood in front of Harry, "Take care of yourself… I shall need you around to knock Oberyn around in the future." They both ignored the indignant squawk from the aforementioned prince.

She turned to Arthur who kissed the back of her hand before she had the chance to speak, "Farewell, Princess Elia." She smiled and said nothing further instead gracing him with a soft peck on the cheek, Harry and Ashara shared a look but didn't comment.

Oberyn smiled as he clapped Harry's shoulder, "I have come to a decision," He told him conspiratorially, "I will continue participating in the melees… otherwise I will not have the opportunity to repay you for my defeat in the yard."

Harry smiled, "I look forward to it Prince Oberyn."

The unabashed rogue nodded, "Until that time then." With that, the younger Martells mounted their horses and their retinue left Starfall. Harry and Ashara watched in silence from the walls as they wound their way down to the town and took a ferry across the Torrentine. Neither could help the slight disappointment at watching their departure.

* * *

AN: I realize in my authors note at the end of the last chapter that I said this could get as far as the Tourney at Lannisport but a six year time jump in one chapter seemed a bit much. Not to mention the Tourney will prove important for a couple reasons so I didn't want to rush and this chapter was already 13k words.

A quick comment on Harrion's memories of Harry Potter's life. It was intentional on my part that he will at times differentiate between himself and his counterpart and at others he will think of them as a single entity. Harrion is both within and without in the dreams, having independent thought while feeling everything Harry feels.

Thanks all for reading. Until next time.


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Sorry about the long wait between chapters, even though I very much enjoy working on this story it just seemed to get lost in the shuffle. Thank you everyone for your reviews, I always enjoy reading them.

NOTE: I have had a few people who have asked me for what I feel Ashara would looks like. If you are interested, go to deviantart and search Abend86. Her portrait of Ashara is spot on to how I view her when she's older.

As for the guest reviews...

coldblue: 1) You'll have to wait and find out 2) Canon, or almost entirely canon 3) I haven't decided if there are going to be multiple POVs 4) Probably 5)No 6)Valyrian, Rhoynish, and passing knowledge of Braavosi, he would have no reason to learn Dothraki 7)Wait and find out 8) No, at least not anytime soon 9)No 10)Possibly. As for cover art, no I don't have any intentions of doing as much. If my cousin happens to read this and is willing to do something, I'll happily accept her work. But otherwise I don't feel a need.

reader: Tywin and Aerys' relationship only comes to its final conclusion when Jaime is named to the Kingsguard. Aerys would likely use it as an opportunity to mock Tywin, yes.

I like it: The Rhoynish healing is given more detail in this chapter. It should answer your question.

* * *

It was a wet morning after the rain the previous day. The rhythmic clopping of horses sounded in the early morning stillness as Harrion and Arthur with four of the Dayne household guard made their way north along the Ocean Road toward Lannisport. A tourney was being held there by Lord Tywin in honor of Viserys Targaryen's birth a few months prior and to welcome King Aerys II to the Westerlands.

At five and ten, Harrion had grown tall slightly taller than his own father and only a few inches shorter than Arthur. He was not gangly though, instead his chest and arms were well-muscled from hours of time spent in the yard, all the more so since Arthur had made it a requirement that he wear full armor to grow accustomed to the weight and feel of it; the armor which he once thought so cumbersome did nothing to hinder his movements any longer. He had slight stubble along his cheeks and jawline and he had cut his hair shorter in the hopes of getting around its unruly nature. He wore a shirt of chain mail underneath boiled leather, and a silk tunic of purple and silver.

"Doesn't this tourney seem a bit… premature to you?" Harry questioned Arthur as they waded through the fog.

Arthur turned quizzically to Harry, "How do you mean?"

"Well," He hesitated momentarily, "Aerys' last two sons died in the crib, and Prince Viserys is only a few months old. It seems to me there is still a very real possibility he will not live to see his first nameday if the past is to be taken into account."

Arthur shrugged unconcernedly, "I agree it is probably premature, but Lord Tywin has chosen to throw a tourney all the same. I have no problem participating even should the young prince happen to suffer the same unfortunate fate as his elder siblings, Seven save them." The Sword of the Morning had never been a religious fanatic but like all knights of his ilk, namely those made of the true steel, he knew the _Seven Point Star_ by heart and said his prayers to the gods.

"Aye, I suppose you won't care much whether Viserys lives or dies once you've won the tourney and taken home the purse," Harry commented lightly, earning a sideways look from Arthur.

"You're rather witty for a squire, Harry," Arthur deadpanned, "I should have clouted you on the ears more often to get that out of you"

"Perhaps," Harry returned with a self-satisfied smile, "But then I wouldn't be nearly as much fun, would I?"

Arthur shook his head, chuckling lightly as he did, "If by fun, you mean a pain in the arse."

Harry reared back as though slapped, "Come now Arthur, have I not been a good, dutiful squire to you over the last three years."

"You have," Arthur agreed earnestly, "but that doesn't mean there aren't times when I have wished you were a mute. I think it is because you have spent far too much time in Ashara and Oberyn's company over the years. " He tilted his head in thought, "Have you heard from Oberyn recently?"

The Dornish Prince was suffering, what was for all intents and purposes, exile. After being caught in bed with Lord Yronwood's paramour, he had fought the elder man in a duel to first blood, granted because of Oberyn's high birth and youth. Both suffered cuts during the fight. In the following days, Lord Yronwood's wound festered and he died. Oberyn had been accused of foul play, namely poisoning his blade. As way of placating the Yronwoods, Doran Martell ruler of Dorne since his mother's passing, had sent Oberyn to Oldtown.

The thought of Oberyn gave Harry some pause though; just recently Harrion had been forced to watch as Harry Potter's godfather had been cast through the Veil of Death. The Marauder had so reminded him of the Martell prince, and it was truly disheartening to watch as the man who meant so much to his counterpart, the closest thing to family, was murdered before his eyes. _It was an awful thing, I thank the old gods and the new that the silencing charm actually works, otherwise I have no doubt my yells would have woken others._ Harrion knew that Bellatrix hadn't been entirely correct in her analysis of Harry's cruciatus curse. His counterpart had more than enough anger, more than enough desire to see the woman in pain, it just wasn't a perverse desire instead based in righteous justice. _I am glad he didn't, and I don't, have the necessary mindset to cast that particular piece of magic._

He resisted the urge to shudder at the thought of the torture spell. He had felt its effects first hand, at the hands of the monster named Tom Riddle. It was after that event that he had started silencing himself in the nights; his parents had come running in alarm after the gut-wrenching scream he'd released upon the spell making contact with his counterpart. He hadn't woken from his dream for nearly another hour only to find his hysterical mother and worried father by his bedside.

Harry shook himself and answered Arthur's question, "The last raven we received from him is the last word I have had. I imagine he is still making his way to the Free Cities. Either that or he is too busy between a whore's thighs to actually find time to send a raven." They both laughed at that as they crested a hill and looked down on a broken, dilapidated castle. The hearty laugh fell from Harry's lips as he set his eyes on the remains of Tarbeck Hall. Harry paused briefly before digging his heals into the side of his black mare. He could hear Arthur on his larger and heavier palfrey just behind.

It took him only a few short minutes at a quick gallop to reach the last remnants of his aunt's foolish defiance. Harry came to a halt beneath a stone archway, a moment later Arthur rode up beside him cuffing him over the side of the head as he did.

"Was that really necessary?" Arthur questioned, more than a little exasperated.

"No," Harry replied quietly, as he looked around at the destroyed castle, "I apologize. My father has told more than one story of my Aunt Ellyn and of the violence that took place here, I just… lost myself upon seeing the evidence of those stories." Arthur remained silent as Harry dismounted and made his way further into the wreckage.

The main hall was caved in during the assault but some of the adjacent rooms remained intact, though fifteen years later many had ceilings that were near collapsed. In the gaps in the stone walls, wild plants had grown unimpeded. Harry wasn't just wandering idly; he had a specific place in mind. His father had told him that his cousins and aunt had been laid to rest along the western wall of the castle, with a few stacked stones to mark their graves.

As Harry drew closer to the assigned location Harry could hear a dull thud. He turned the corner of a broken doorway and found himself looking at four men. One of them was leaning against the wall cock in hand taking a piss; he was short and old with a raggedy beard. Another, younger man was cooking a rabbit over an open fire, though it appeared that he had burned it quite thoroughly. The biggest of them, was sleeping with his head against his angled shield. The last was a tall, thin man with two daggers at his hip. The dull thud Harry heard was his digging into the earth of his relatives' graves with a short shovel. All of them looked as though they hadn't washed themselves in years and their makeshift little camp was permeated with the smells of shit and piss.

The young man cooking noticed Harry first and laughed as he nudged his sleeping comrade, "Look what we 'ave 'ere lads, some noble shit's wandered off the road and found himself in a spot of trouble."

The largest of them squinted as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked Harry over, "Spot of trouble you've found ye'self in lad. Though I'll admit, you look you might be able to fight, but it's four 'gainst one." He rubbed at his chin in false contemplation, "Tell ye' what, I'll strike a deal with ye', seeing as I don' want to lose any of me men." He gestured to Harry's entire body, "Give us that fine ring of yours, any other gold you migh' have on you, and those nice castle forged swords of yours and we'll let you get along on your way without any harm comin' to ye'."

Harry just wrinkled his nose in distaste, ignoring the antagonistic words, "What are you doing?" He was looking squarely at the man with the spade in his hands.

The tall man looked at him, before turning to the larger man for permission. After receiving an affirmative nod, he smiled, showing his rotted teeth, "People tend to avoid this place, don' want to risk Lord Lannister's golden fucking ire." He pointed down to the stone markers, "Figure the only people who died here mus' have been nobles, nobles tend to have gold on 'em." He gestured to a pile of bones nearby and held up a medallion bearing the sigil of House Reyne. "Turns out we was right."

Harry looked at the medallion closely. He was surprised his father hadn't relieved his relatives of their jewelry before burying them but supposed he didn't want to dirty the act by taking their valuables from them… _like a common thief._ He looked the man square in the eye, his emerald gaze disconcerting, "You'll be giving me that now, unless you wish to find yourself split open from balls to brains." The four men shared a look among themselves before they laughed loudly. _Poor form, do they really think that I am here alone? If they're not careful they'll have The Sword of the Morning to contend with. But I don't need Arthur to deal with bandits like these._

He reached toward the two swords on his back and pulled them swiftly from their ornamented leather sheaths. The two scabbards were his most recent nameday present from Ashara. One was made of purple leather, accented with silver and the other was black with threads of red and green, "I will say it only once more, give me that medallion and leave this place or I will take it by force and none of you will live to see another sunrise." They laughed again then, and Harry smiled wolfishly. He twitched the sword in his left hand, it wasn't a particularly effective focus but it worked well enough to direct his intentions. He violently forced the man who still had his cock out directly into the crumbling walls of Tarbeck Hall, there was a sickening crunch as his skull caved in and his blood began to seep down from where his body was propped up. The three remaining grave robbers stared in wide-eyed terror at the death of their eldest member.

Moving something of that mass, particularly more than once, was still quite exhausting for Harry. His ability to banish and summon objects, and subsequently levitate them, had advanced leaps and bounds over the years; he could go for hours on end with his small metal ball these days. But moving a human being was an entirely different matter, as they weighed substantially more, it required substantially more focus and magic to move with any significant results. _I honestly begrudge my counterpart his focus. It may be a weakness of sorts, making him reliant on its aid, but it certainly would be nice to have magic come that much easier. Though I suppose it is good in some ways as well._ He looked to the sharp edge of his swords as he brought them to bear on the grave robber. _If I had a proper focus I could very easily become over reliant on it, and I doubt I would be half as good a swordsman as I am now._

Before the grave digger had the time to even draw the daggers at his hip, the blade in Harry's left hand dug into his stomach, opening up his guts. He ripped the sword upward, through the man's intestines all the way to center of his clavicle. He wrenched his arm backward and let the man fall limply to the ground, shock still etched on his face.

The youngest of them looked as though he were ready to run, far and fast away from Harry while the burly shield bearer looked as though he was ready to spit fire in his anger. _Clearly he was the leader of this piss poor excuse for a group of bandits._

The man charged at him like an enraged bull without a hint of skill or caution. In his anger the man dropped his shield to his side, leaving his chest open to attack. _No training, no training whatsoever. This one has probably made his living on being the biggest boy in the yard but that's all he is good for, raw strength. Probably would have been better served moving stones than holding a sword._ As the man got closer, Harry braced himself for the coming impact and as he made a wild swing of his sword toward Harry's head he deflected it with the blade in his left hand, using the man's momentum to force him forward. Faster than the man had any hope of countering, Harry brought the sword in his right hand up and slashed at the back of the leader's neck as he passed by; the cut bit deep, causing the man to stumble to the ground and drop both his weapon and his shield. Harry stepped up behind him and drove his sword through the man's chest. He spit up blood as Harry ripped his blade free and let him fall forward.

The last, the youngest of them, dropped his sword and started retreating from Harry fearfully. He turned to run only to come face to face with Arthur and Lucas as they came around the corner at the other end of the wall. He turned back to Harry and fell to his knees, "Please… please, mercy."

Harry sheathed his swords as Arthur came to stand beside him and looked down at the only remaining bandit, "You always seem to find yourself in some sort of trouble, don't you?" He rubbed at his eyes.

Shrugging unrepentantly, Harry made his way to the dead gravedigger and took the Reyne medallion from his stiff hands. He examined it silently, having little doubt that it had been his aunt's. He pocketed the trinket and made his way over to the excavated bones, he quickly returned them to their shallow grave and covered them. As he returned to Arthur, Lucas was handing him what spoils he had found among the bandits' camp. There were a few silver stags, a large pouch full of coppers, and a golden bracelet engraved with the sigil of House Hetherspoon, the landed knights sworn to House Lannister.

Arthur looked it over briefly before shifting his gaze to the cowering survivor, "How did you come upon this?"

The boy tried to speak but nothing came out on the first attempt. He tried again and stuttered out, "We… we was lookin' for easy pickins in the hills to the west of the Rock. Some highborn girl had got away from her guards and we… we happened to stumble upon her." He swallowed thickly at the hard look that Arthur gave him, "She, uh, she 'ad that bracelet on 'er… Colin," he gestured to the big man with the shield, "he took it from 'er… tried to pull 'er from 'er horse, said 'we could have some fun with 'er," Arthur's hand clenched and twitched upward toward his sword but he waited patiently for the rest of the story, "But she kicked him hard in the bollocks and galloped away. We made to follow 'er but could hear others nearby so we ran fast as we could."

Arthur nodded to himself before grabbing the boy by the back of his shirt and lifting him to his feet. He pushed him in Lucas' direction, "Bind him, and tie him to one of the horses. He committed crimes on Lord Tywin's lands; he will decide what should be done with him." Lucas nodded as Arthur continued, "Bring the others back with you; we have some men to bury."

The bandit, of an age with Arthur, was weeping openly, knowing full well what sort of punishment he would receive, "Please, no m'lord! Just let me go, I won' cause any harm again. I swear it!" His pleas fell on deaf ears.

Arthur instead turned to look at Harry, "Only you could come to look for your relatives' graves and end up in a scrum with a group of bandits."

"I have the worst kind of good luck," Harry responded ruefully as he pulled the medallion from his pocket, "we may wish to deliver this to Lord Tywin as well." He was tempted to keep it for his own but didn't want to risk it being found on his person while near the Lannisters. He was under the impression that Tywin had his suspicions regarding his lineage as it was. _I have no desire to add to them if they do exist._

Arthur took the medallion from him and looked it over, the golden trinket had held up surprisingly well over the years. He contemplated Harry's suggestion for a moment, "You're right of course."

Within an hour they were back on the Ocean Road, their captive bandit bobbed along behind one of the guard. Tarbeck Hall was the nearest castle to Lannisport from the south, and after another four hours at a rather quick pace they passed the bustling port city. Casterly Rock could be seen from many miles away, being almost two leagues wide. It was a truly massive structure, in the base of it there were great sea-carved caverns, further up there were hundreds of visible mineshafts and further still there were dozens of crisscrossing veins of gold and red that glinted in the early afternoon sun. Atop the Rock, where once the Casterlys had placed a ringfort, there were now crenelated walls and high watchtowers. Imposing was the first word to come to mind. _Seems an appropriate home for a man like Tywin Lannister. From the stories I've heard, it didn't quite suit Tytos Lannister so well._ As they made their way toward the Rock just a short distance further north, they could see the viewing stands that had been erected beneath the walls of Lannisport for the tourney. Lucas, Harry and Arthur, continued along to the Rock as the other three guards left so they might settle their belongings as Arthur took their prisoner to Tywin.

The great stone hill loomed over them as they approached the Lion's Gate, the main entrance into the castle. As they neared the gate a voice called out, "Knights are meant to set up their tents outside of the city." Had Lord Ulric been able to accompany them, they likely would have been granted quarters in the vastness of Casterly Rock but with both him and Arlan unable to attend they would either be staying in Lannisport or outside it in the tent with the guards.

Arthur addressed the gatekeeper cordially, "I am Ser Arthur Dayne, and I am well aware of where I ought to lay my head for the night." He gestured to the bound man on the back of Lucas' horse, "However, my squire came upon a small group of bandits on our trip north along the Ocean Road." He glanced in Harry's direction briefly, "three of the four men are dead, the fourth surrendered. Seeing as the crimes they performed were in Lord Tywin's lands, I thought it best to leave the issue of this man's justice to him."

Arthur's name held sway, everyone in the kingdoms knew of the Sword of the Morning. The gatekeeper looked to his left and gestured to someone, a moment later creaking could be heard as the gates were opened. They dismounted their horses and untied their prisoner; one of the Lannister guards was waiting for them near a smaller doorway that led into the Rock. They followed, beating a quick pace through the tunnels of the fortress.

It was vast and beautiful, with seemingly endless corridors and stairs that led up and down further into the gigantic stone. The walls were carved smooth, beautiful tapestries and paintings hung along every wall and every now and again there was a stretch of the wall that would gleam in the light from some small portion of a vein that had been left undisturbed lest it ruin the aesthetics of the halls. They walked for nearly half an hour before finally the guard came to a large door tinted red and inlaid with a golden lion. The guard opened the door and Arthur entered first, dragging along the bandit who futilely tried to resist knowing full well what his fate was likely to be.

Tywin looked different than the last time Harry saw him. His golden hair had been shaved away and the Golden Lion of the Rock was now bald. He still grew a beard though and neglected to shave down his sideburns. He was speaking with his younger brother, Kevan. It was well known that since the death of his beloved wife, Kevan had become Tywin's closest confidant. Both men looked up as the four men entered the chamber.

Tywin looked to Arthur, sparing Harry a brief glance before speaking in his deep, drawling voice, "To what do I owe the pleasure Ser Arthur? I did not expect to see you until the tourney tomorrow."

"And under ordinary circumstance that would have been the case Lord Tywin," Arthur replied respectfully, as he pushed the bandit in front of him, "but my squire happened upon a group of bandits while making our way north along the Ocean Road, this man was the only survivor." He stepped forward and dropped the stolen valuables onto Tywin's desk, "We managed to recover the goods they took from unsuspecting innocents." Tywin and Kevan both grabbed from the small pile, the elder brother inspecting the Reyne medallion, the younger looking at the Hetherspoon bracelet.

There was a long pause as Tywin examined the golden necklace, "These bandits must have spent some time near Tarbeck Hall," He ran a finger over the red gold lion, "I remember this on Ellyn Reyne's person during her time here at Casterly Rock." He glanced at Harry and nodded slightly, "You did a good thing dealing with them. It has been years since any behaved as such, but the tourney must have enticed a few fools." He looked at the bound bandit, "You threatened the well-being of a noble lady, and stole goods from that same lady. As for the other goods, I can only imagine you came by them by similar means." He looked to the guards by his door, "Have his hands removed." The man struggled as they pulled him toward the door. _It would have been kinder just to kill him._

Kevan offered the bracelet to his brother, "It would appear that the squire has done a greater service than not," Tywin looked down to the offered piece of gold, "It would appear that these were the bandits who beset Melara Hetherspoon on the road."

"So it would seem," Tywin leaned back in the ornate chair upon which he sat and considered Harry. Quite suddenly, he took the pouch of silver and coppers from where they sat on his table and offered them along with the Reyne medallion to Harry, "Melara is a companion to my daughter; she was quite distraught regarding her ordeal upon arriving here. I meant to send a search party out to deal with the issue but you have managed it already."

Harry hesitated a moment before stepping forward and taking the offered reward, "My thanks, my Lord."

Tywin nodded, "You did me a service squire, it is only fitting that you receive an appropriate reward." He took the bracelet from his brother and handed that to Harry as well, "You succeeded in retrieving this piece of jewelry, it is only right that you return it to the lady who was wronged."

Tywin looked to the guard still standing steadfastly at the door, "Show the squire to my daughters quarters. Melara ought to be there with her."

Harry bowed his head and made to follow the guard as Tywin addressed Arthur, "Now about your arrangements for the tourney. It seems untoward that the prince's close personal friend and one of the most renowned knights in the Kingdoms would be forced to camp outside of the city…" Harry heard no more as the door closed behind him.

Harry climbed a series of stairs, and passed a large, barred, reinforced door that he had little doubt led to Golden Gallery which contained the many Lannister treasures, before they came to a stop outside of another door. Harry knocked before receiving a permission to enter from within. There were three girls sitting within the large, personal solar which overlooked the sea to the west of Casterly Rock,

There was a rather short, plump young girl of some ten years of age with light brown hair and a kindly smile on her face as she tittered at one of Cersei's jokes. _Something tells me she is the sort that would laugh at any of Cersei's jokes if it would please the girl._

The second girl was taller, and skinny not unhealthily so but she had yet to develop any of the curves of womanhood and still had a noticeable boyish appearance. Her hair was a dirty blonde and her face was noticeably pretty, if freckled. She was smiling faintly at whatever Cersei had said but wasn't trying to win her favor as obviously as the other girl.

The last was a young girl who Harry had met before, though many years prior. Her golden hair flowed down to her mid back. She wore a dress of the finest Myrish silk, in a deep crimson red that matched her house sigil. Her green eyes shined with an intelligence, and pride, far beyond her years. She had a slight frown on her pretty young face as she glanced at her plump young companion. Even at only ten years of age, highborn men and women alike regarded Cersei Lannister as a beauty, and there was little doubt that she would only grow mores so as she became a woman.

Cersei turned her gaze onto Harry as he entered the room, her green eyes narrowed in recognition, "I remember you, the street urchin turned squire to House Dayne," She looked him up and down appraisingly, something he did not expect from a ten year old, "I remember commenting on your eyes, such green eyes," she commented idly, "why are you here?" The other two girls looked to him as Cersei addressed him.

Harry bowed his head, very much aware that it was unwise to offend the young Lannister lady, "Apologies, my Lady, I do not mean to interrupt but your father commanded me to seek you and your companions out so that I might return something that was wrongfully taken." He brought the bracelet up so that they might see it. The skinny young girl smiled widely upon seeing the offered piece of jewelry. She quickly stood and approached taking it from him gingerly. She smiled at him, blushing slightly as she glanced away, "Thank you Ser, this was a gift from my father, one which cost him a great deal. I did not think to see it again."

Harry considered correcting her, seeing as he wasn't a knight but he just smiled kindly, "Think nothing of it. I happened upon the bandits who thought to attack you by chance. I suppose it is good fortune that they could do no more harm on you than simple thievery."

"Good fortune indeed," Cersei said loudly, drawing his attention away from the young girl standing just before him, "I would have been terribly distraught had something awful befallen my dear friend." Melara turned then and made her way back toward her seat. Harry made to leave but Cersei's voice stopped him, "Tell me Harry, will you be participating in the joust? Or perhaps the melee?"

"Ser Arthur shall be participating in the joust, my Lady; your father has commanded that only anointed knights might do so." Harry answered dutifully, "However, I shall be participating in, and with luck winning, the melee."

Cersei smiled slightly, presenting an image that made it all the more apparent what sort of beauty she would grow to be, "I would offer you a token of my esteem… given your bravery, and that you aided one of my dear friends." He had little doubt that she wouldn't do as much if she wasn't sure that her twin brother wasn't participating in the event or Prince Rhaegar for that matter. She offered him a red cloth bearing a golden lion. He would have expected Melara to offer as much, but she appeared to have nothing to offer.

The only favor he had ever been given in the past was from Ashara. As she was unable to attend, he saw no reason to refuse. Harry took it gently from her slim hand, "You honor me, my Lady." He didn't know how he felt about fighting for a Lannister in the coming melee but he wouldn't let it affect his drive to see himself victorious for the first time. "I shall endeavor to see that your token was not given in vain."

She looked him squarely in the eye, and spoke with a sense of pride that could only come from being born to one of the most powerful and feared houses in the Seven Kingdoms, "See that you do, squire." He bowed to Cersei, and acknowledged both the plump girl and Melara, who was looking at him with a hint of awe as he turned and left the room. The guard escorted him back through the Rock but they were stopped along the path by Lucas, he looked to the guard, "Apologies, but Lord Tywin saw fit to grant Ser Arthur and yourself lodgings within the Rock as further thanks for the service provided." The guard nodded and allowed Harry to be led away. When he finally reached their quarters, a large room containing two comfortable looking beds, particularly after the weeks of travel, he relieved himself of his weapons and mail and plonked down onto one of the beds without any sense of decorum, resting while he had the opportunity.

* * *

Harry looked up at Arthur as he cantered up to him on his palfrey. His shining armor had a few noticeable dents but was otherwise none the worse for wear. He looked down at Harry and handed him the remains of his shattered lance. He removed his helmet and smiled widely, "Well I would say I have had a fine day work. Ser Gerold is in the dirt, Lord Leyton, and Lord Mace along with him." Those were Arthur's most notable victories of the day. He unhorsed a hedge knight, a number of western knights and Lord Yohn Royce in his earlier tilts.

Harry returned the smile as he looked up at his longtime friend, "House Hightower must be absolutely livid. You unhorsed two of their best, and one of Leyton's former squires as well." They shared a chuckle as they looked over into the arena where Mace Tyrell was still trying to right himself after the hard blow Arthur had dealt him. The heir to Highgarden was an anointed knight now, and had fathered two sons on his wife Alerie Hightower: Willas a toddler, and Garlan a babe still at his wet nurses teat.

Harry's gaze wandered to the viewing stands where Lord Tywin sat beside a far less refined looking King Aerys II. The man, who had once had a refined air about him, looked drawn and unkempt. The crown on his head sat slightly askew and his silver-blonde hair had grown down past his shoulder; this in itself wasn't surprising but it appeared as though it wasn't as immaculately groomed as one expected from the king. Neither the Queen nor their newborn son was actually present at the tourney; the King, in his paranoia regarding Viserys' health, had insisted that they remain in the capital.

The rest of the stands were filled with the noble lords of the Westerlands, Riverlands, Stormlands, and Reach. Save for Arthur, there were no other Dornishmen participating in the lists. The Martells wouldn't be caught within a hundred leagues of the Westerlands since they were slighted by Tywin Lannister following Joanna's death. The agreed upon marriage between Cersei and Oberyn had been rescinded and Tyrion, the newborn dwarf son of the Golden Lion had been offered instead. Rumor of the event had traveled throughout the nobility of Dorne, and few of the loyal bannerman of House Martell were pleased with the Lannister actions. _Arthur is only here because he knows that it is for the best for his ambitions to be one of the Kingsguard in the future._

The field for the tourney had been thinned from over three-hundred to just sixty-four. At this point, Harry had experienced the other variation that could be used for the joust, where seven champions defended their position from any challenger but he preferred the traditional elimination method.

Prince Rhaegar, freshly knighted, and resplendent in his black armor emblazoned with the three-headed dragon of his house, had been the spectacle of the event. Harry could still feel the deafening roar of the smallfolk as their beloved prince had made his way out onto the lists. He had not disappointed either, unseating twelve of the Westerlands renowned knights, Gerion Lannister included. He would be matched against Tygett in the first tilt of the following day.

Harry took Arthur's dented plate armor from him ad handed the Dayne knight Dawn. It was odd seeing Arthur without his legendary blade. The weapon only seemed truly at place when it sat in its sheath across the swordsman's back.

They made the short walk over to their horses and started making their way back to the Rock. There were to be festivities in Lannisport to celebrate the tourney but the nobility and knights would be feasting in Tywin's halls. A cortege of horses made their way back toward the Lion's Gate.

During their journey, Harry was entirely unsurprised when they were approached by the Queen of Thorns. It seemed inevitable at this point that at any tourney which both he and the elder woman happened to attend at the same time, she would seek him out so that she might inspect him… for some reason. _I have no doubt that she has her own motivations but, there seems to be no rhyme or reason behind her desire to speak with me._

The regal, aging woman was riding a proud brown mare. And unlike some of the other ladies in the line of nobles, she did not ride side saddle. Beside her there was a young woman of an age with Harry, wearing a lovely golden dress embroidered with green vines up the sleeves. The fine garment accentuated her rather buxom chest. She had golden brown eyes, a cute nose and was smiling faintly at whatever the elder Tyrell had said.

As Olenna neared, she started the conversation as she always did by addressing whichever Dayne he happened to be with, "Ser Arthur, let me introduce my daughter, Janna." Arthur acknowledged the young woman as Olenna continued, "I admit I am surprised to see you in the lists… though as always your performance has been impressive." Both Harry and Arthur knew the woman cared little about such things, that she was only complimenting him for appearances sake.

"I could not miss the opportunity to participate in such an event, my Lady," Arthur replied pleasantly, "particularly when it is the first in which our prince has taken part."

Olenna hummed to herself, "Yes, Prince Rhaegar has afforded himself splendidly in his first appearance in the lists… something I have never been able to say of my own son. He plays at being a fine knight when he should concern himself with other matters." Olenna never had any qualms about speaking her mind with regards to her son, or any other person for that matter. Beside her, her daughter snickered at her mother's candor.

Arthur resisted the urge to laugh himself, "Lord Mace has afforded himself well on more than one occasion, my Lady."

Olenna snorted, "Says the man who knocked him off his horse with just a single broken lance," she waved her hand dismissively, "Enough of that now. Tell me, how are Lord Ulric and Lady Larra?"

"Last I saw her, my mother had been bed ridden for a week," Arthur responded soberly, "Allyria's birth took a toll on her. Ashara remained at Starfall so she might provide mother with any aid she might need, and father wouldn't be parted from her side, we fear he might drive himself to sickness in his worry."

Olenna gave a sympathetic nod, "Word of your sister's birth reached Highgarden, but I had not heard of your mother's ill health." She looked down at her own hands around her reins, "I was surprised when I heard that she had fallen pregnant. She is of an age with me, and many of our age are concerning themselves with grandchildren… not children of their own." She smirked slightly, "Your lord father, despite his age, must have something left in him to have gotten her with another child." Truthfully, it was a shock to all at Starfall that Larra had fallen pregnant. Ulric was five and sixty now, and while many men continued spawning children well into old age, it had been many years since Larra or Ulric even considered having another child.

Arthur gave a weak smile and tried to get away from the sensitive subject, "Arlan hopes to give her a grandchild sometime in the near future."

"Ah, yes," Olenna said lightly, "I had forgotten about your brother's marriage to Lady Elinor. I wondered if he would ever wed… though it would seem he just wished to follow in your father's footsteps and take a wife later than most."

Arthur chuckled, "I suppose that is true, my Lady. Arlan would tell you that he had the unfortunate problem of never finding a woman that truly… ensnared him and father felt no need to rush him." He scratched at his chin, "Though I am willing to say that had he reached thirty without a wife, mother would have intervened on his behalf."

Olenna laughed slightly at that, a rare thing from the often stern woman. Her gaze fell to Harry then and he prepared for her usual cryptic, "Harry, I wonder, how come your studies? You have always rather impressed me for a boy taken from the streets."

"They go well, my Lady," Harry responded promptly, "I have always had an excellent tutor at Starfall; the sort that can even work with a child who comes from nothing."

Olenna smiled faintly, "I wish your tutor the best of health then," She gave Harry a pointed look. That was always a common thread with their encounters. As she seemed unwilling to risk exchanging letters with Lily, Olenna always told Harry to wish his mother well, though not in such explicit words. She looked him up and down briefly, "Far too many knights these days worry themselves with work in the yard alone. A good number of them are as dull and dim as the beasts they ride in their tilts." She smirked, both young men knew that there was some truth to her words, "I find it humorous that someone who comes from nothing might have both a sharper mind as well as sharper blade." Harry didn't know what exactly to make of that comment so remained silent, "Shall you be participating in the melee tomorrow?"

"I will, Lady Olenna," Harry replied shortly.

Janna spoke up for the first time then, "I have seen you in three other melees, Harry." She graced him with a demure smile, "In each subsequent one you have come closer to being the victor." It was true, he drew ever closer to being the victor coming within the last ten combatants in the last five tourneys they attended. Most recently, he had the misfortune of coming against Ser Barristan and the famed knight knocked him on his arse after an entertaining exchange.

"I do what I can, my Lady," Harry returned her open smile, "I have high hopes for tomorrow's event."

"I am sure you shall afford yourself well, and I would be far from surprised if you prove to be the champion," She looked at him, appraising him with the same sort of shrewd eye as her mother often did, "I am aware that you often wear Lady Ashara's favor at these events, she is ever so fond of you from what I have seen." Her lips turned upward ever-so-slightly at that, "In her absence, I would offer you a token of my favor."

"I would be honored, my Lady," He started, though at her brightening he shook his head slowly, "But I am afraid that I must refuse." Noticing the frown on both her and Olenna's faces he hastened to explain, "Lady Cersei already offered me a token of her favor for the coming melee, as way of thanking me for bringing to justice a group of men that attacked her friend Melara Hetherspoon on the road."

"Ah," Janna's frown gave way to understanding, though she did not look pleased "Then I shall take no offense at your refusal, squire." She offered him a small smile, "All the same, I wish you good fortune in the event tomorrow." Olenna spared them each one more appraising look before both Tyrell women spurred their horses ahead.

Harry looked to Arthur and they shared a perplexed look, "Someday," He started slowly, "someday I hope to understand what exactly Olenna Tyrell means by those little conversations."

Arthur frowned, "Perhaps it is better that you don't. That woman may be a friend to your mother, but she is dangerous. Whatever her motivations regarding you, be contented that they seem to be innocuous in nature." Harry nodded slightly and they continued back to the Rock in silence.

They arrived back to their assigned quarter to find an unexpected guard standing before the door. Ser Barristan looked them up and down silently and gave them a firm nod, as they pushed through the door. Standing in the center of the room, Prince Rhaegar was looking closely at the Reyne medallion Harry had left on the pillow of his cot.

As he heard the door open he turned to look at them, and returned the trinket to where he had found it, "Apologies, my friends." Rhaegar said in his usual calm tone, "I did not mean to intrude on your personal effects but I was intrigued by the medallion." The Prince's indigo eyes were locked firmly on Harry as he spoke, "It is a rare thing to see anything bearing the red lion of House Reyne these days. Like you, I was only a young child when Lord Tywin was forced to take action against his bannerman." He frowned slightly, a common sight on the somber prince's face, "A shame though that such a famed house was snuffed out, with nothing but a song to commemorate there history." As a fervent student of history, it was unsurprising that Rhaegar would lament the destruction of such an old house.

Rhaegar looked at Harry intently for a long moment before shaking himself, "I heard tale of your actions on the road." He smiled slightly, "Clearly Arthur has taught you properly how to behave as a knight," He looked to the older man and smirked slightly, "surprising as that might be."

Harry snorted, while Arthur smiled as he responded, "I do my best Rhaegar, but it is hard to drive such complicated lessons into a stone. And Harry doesn't have the benefit of the seven most famed knights in the realm at his disposal."

Rhaegar chuckled lowly, "No, I suppose he doesn't. Instead, he just has the best knight in the kingdoms to teach him his lessons well." He stepped over to a chair and sat there, "You have fared well so far in the joust, Arthur." Harry grabbed Arthur's armor and started his wok of buffing out the dents suffered during the day's tilts.

"As have you Rhaegar," Arthur said as he sat down across from his good friend, "though I fear that even should you best the rest of your opponents on your side of the lists, when all is said and done I shall be the victor and your resplendent armor shall have a few fresh scuffs with need of buffing."

"You would best your own prince? One of your dearest friends?" Rhaegar questioned almost as though he was offended, though the slight upturning of his lips betrayed his amusement. Harry had come to learn a great deal about Arthur and Rhaegar's friendship over the years. Arthur was the Targaryen heir's closest friend for a multitude of reasons but chief among them was Arthur's ability to treat him both with the dignity of his station while avoiding bowing and scraping like so many other nobles.

"In a heartbeat," Arthur replied succinctly, causing Rhaegar to huff indignantly, "It would be an odd thing if the prince managed to win his first tourney," Arthur rubbed at his chin dramatically, "It might even send tongues wagging that perhaps the other knights and nobles were unwilling to strike the beloved heir."

Rhaegar huffed and rubbed at his left shoulder, "Were that true, I wouldn't have a bruise the size of my fist forming thanks to Gerion Lannister's lance."

Arthur waved him off dismissively, "One man's attempts at actually besting you aren't enough to convince me, my prince." They shared a look and smiled, "Though I suppose everything will become clear when we meet one another in the final tilt." Rhaegar nodded his head, confident that would be the very outcome of the joust.

They talked idly for a good while until Rhaegar's attention fell to Harry where he sat diligently working on Arthur's armor, "Have you had an opportunity to read the book I gifted you?"

Harry smiled faintly, "I have. It was quite fascinating and certainly the most detailed account of Valyria's rise and fall that I have read."

"It is quite the fascinating subject," Rhaegar said idly, "for an empire to grow that strong only to be snuffed out in an instant, much of their knowledge lost in the process. If I were a braver man, unfettered by the bonds of my station I would travel to the Doom, see what secrets might be gleaned from what remains."

"I have felt the same inclination," Harry admitted calmly, "but many have tried Rhaegar, and as far as we are to know, none have succeeded. It is not worth risking one's life for the sake of something so inherently futile. They say any man who so much as glimpses the Doom will be met with ill fortune." Harry reasoned, as much to himself as to the prince. _They say that there are still poison fumes, but they could be countered by that bubble-head charm I saw the champions use during that cursed tournament. The stone men who inhabit the place are of little consequence… Someday, maybe I **will** go there. It would be quite the feat, to be the first man to survive the Doom. _

Rhaegar closed his eyes seemingly in his own world for a moment, "You are right of course, but could you imagine… the open spiral towers, the vast libraries, the forges and the mines. They say the Doom consumed it all, but who would know for sure when no one is brave enough to venture into that terrible place."

"I think," Harry responded lowly, "that Valyria would still be a sight to behold even if it is nothing more than a ruin." Rhaegar just hummed his agreement

The door opened then to reveal Ser Barristan, "My Prince, the feast shall begin soon."

Rhaegar sighed, "So it shall," he stood from the chair and looked at the two other occupants of the room, "I will see you at the festivities." The two nodded and with that the Prince departed.

Arthur stood and made his way over to his bed where he rested his head, muttering to himself, "Long day."

They arrived at the feast with a host of other nobles and took their seats at the far end of one of the long tables closest to the door. They were seated next to Lord Jason Mallister and Ser Lyn Corbray.

Lord Mallister smiled behind his red beard, "Ser Arthur, another fine day in the tilts. I count myself lucky that I have avoided you as of yet."

"I doubt you shall remain so lucky, Lord Jason." Arthur responded with a small chuckle, "But, I'm sure the better man shall win when the time comes."

"I'm sure I will," Jason boasted with a full-bellied laugh as they clanged mugs.

Harry was largely ignored, it being uncommon for squires to dine with their knights, let alone the other nobles. But both Arthur and Rhaegar would not have it any other way. So as Arthur made the necessary conversation, Harry instead took to looking around the room, observation he had learned was an important thing with the high lords.

Steffon Baratheon was there with his wife and two sons. Cassana was pregnant with their third child at the moment as evidenced by the slight bump of her stomach.

Robert Baratheon, the heir of Storm's End, was nearly a man grown at three and ten. He was already tall, just a few inches shorter than Harry despite being two years younger. His shoulders were broad, and well-muscled. He looked like the sort of man who would one day have talent on the battlefield. He had dark hair, though not quite so dark as the raven black of Harry's, just like his father. He had vivid blue eyes, and a warm friendly smile. Even across the grand hall of Casterly Rock, _far larger than Ashford and only slightly smaller than Red Keep in King's Landing,_ the young man's joyous laughter could be heard. Steffon's heir usually fostered at the Eyrie with Lord Jon Arryn and his other ward Eddard Stark, neither of whom were in attendance at this particular event, but Robert was visiting his parent's at Storm's End.

Where Robert was loud and joyous, the younger Baratheon was stoic. Stannis already had a hard set to his jaw and despite his father's attempts to engage him in conversation he remained quiet nearly throughout the festivities.

Further down that same table sat an imposing son of one of Lord Tywin's bannerman, Gregor Clegane. The boy was only one and ten, but already more than six and half feet tall and nothing but muscle. _Monstrously large._ The boy had a reputation for violence already; there were even some rumors that he had caused the terrible burns that marred his younger brother's face. Despite his age, that one would be participating in the melee the next day.

At the high table, Cersei was seated next to her Aunt Genna, a… larger woman with a broad and smooth face. She was speaking quietly to her niece who seemed almost ecstatic at what her aunt was telling her. She was casting furtive glances in the direction of Rhaegar where he sat further down the long table. _Hmm so that is the true meaning of these festivities, no tourney was held in honor of Aegon or Jaehaerys before they died but Tywin has deemed it right to do so for Viserys. No, this is meant as a grand spectacle to announce the betrothal of Cersei to Rhaegar._ Rhaegar either didn't notice, or didn't deign to care about Cersei's attentions. _He is sought after by every unwed highborn lady in the realm. I am sure he has grown used to such things._

Harry looked to the king then. He was scowling dourly as Tywin spoke to him quietly. _That does not look like the sort of man willing to discuss betrothals for his son and heir. Unless an agreement has already been made regarding Cersei and Rhaegar something tells me that Tywin and Cersei alike will be quite disappointed with Aerys' response._

Jaime Lannister was there as well, the ten year old's golden hair grew down to his shoulders. And if it were not for the shortness of it, and the lack of a dress, it would be easy to mistake him for his twin sister, though the slight differences were beginning to show through. The younger boy was said to be one of the most naturally talented young swordsman to ever touch a blade. That was only rumor that came from Casterly Rock though, as he had yet to become a squire. Though, it was believed that Lord Crakehall would be training the heir to the Rock in the near future.

As the night wore on, Harry was forced to listen to "The Rains of Castamere" the song which commemorated the fall of his father's family. It wasn't the first time he had heard the piece of music, but something about hearing it in the halls of Tywin Lannister made it all the more unpleasant.

Many of the high ladies cried when Rhaegar took to the harp as he was prone to do at any such festivities; Cersei was among those with wet eyes. _She seems truly enamored of him._

Late that night after the festivities but before he took to his bed, he dragged the Dayne guards and Arthur out to the yard. And just as Arthur did before fighting a melee, he fought all of them at once until he could feel a burn in his arms and sweat poured from his body. He went to bed that night relaxed and ready for the following day's challenges.

* * *

Harry walked with Arthur beside him toward the arena for the melee. He was wearing a set of plain plate armor, made for him by the castle smith at Starfall. On his hip were the two swords which he preferred, in their fine scabbards and on his hip was a short dagger, the short dagger that had been given to him for his nameday years before by the Dayne's. He wore a simple purple tunic with a silver star to denote his affiliation to the house. _Someday I'll be able to wear the one's Ashara made for me._ Finally tied securely around his armored wrist was the red piece of cloth given to him by Cersei Lannister.

Arthur grabbed his shoulder and turned Harry to face him, "Keep your head about you, keep your guard up, and when you see an opening take it." Harry nodded once, having heard the words before, "You're going to win this time, I know it." He smirked slightly as he released Harry, "I can only imagine Ashara's reaction when she finds out. Particularly when learns that you took a token from another."

Harry chuckled, "Your sister is reasonable," Arthur gave him a look though they both knew it to be true, "She wished me good fortune before departing, and expected me to return to Starfall a champion the same as you," He paused and rubbed the back of his head, "As for Cersei's token, she will understand that I was not in a position to refuse."

"Perhaps you're right," Arthur agreed, "but we both know you will suffer some sort of teasing on her part."

Harry cocked his head to the side with a soft smile as he thought of that, "She would tease me whether I win or lose, and whether I was given a favor or not. How will this be any different?"

Arthur laughed deeply, "That is most definitely true." He clapped him on the shoulder one last time, "Best of luck to you."

Harry gathered with the other thirty-seven combatants as they waited to make their way into the arena. Three of the Kingsguard were participating, Ser Gwayne, Ser Oswell wearing his bat-winged helm, and Ser Gerold. Prince Lewyn, Ser Harlan, and Ser Jonothor were not in attendance, having remained behind with the Queen and the newborn prince. While Ser Barristan decided against participating given his standing in the joust

Gregor Clegane, despite being the youngest participant was the tallest by just a few inches; he loomed over the shorter Ser Lyn Corbray beside him.

Robert Baratheon was just in front of Harry, carrying a large, spiked iron warhammer engraved with the stag of his house. On his head, he wore a helm with stag antlers. The young man was laughing merrily as he spoke with Gerion as they waited to enter.

The youngest Lannister brother stood to Robert's left wearing his fine golden armor. His helmet was crafted in the form of a roaring lion.

Mace Tyrell stood toward the front of the gathered men. He wore green tinted armor with the flower of his house boldly emblazoned upon his chest and vines along his gauntlets and vambraces. _He looks the part, certainly, but I doubt he will make it past the first twenty minutes._

Just by his side was young Lord Randyll Tarly, of Horn Hill. He was a tall man, who shaved his head clean with small eyes and a hard jaw. He did not wear the same kind of finery as his liege lord, instead opting for simple plate and a tunic bearing his house sigil. On his back was a Valyrian steel greatsword, Heartsbane. A weapon nearly as well-known as Dawn, the difference being that every Tarly lord took up the sword; it was not earned like Dawn.

There were a few other young squires and a host of lesser known knights among the participants, no doubt hoping to make a name for themselves. _Just like me._

Mace received a signal and led the way into the arena. The roar of the crowd was deafening, ringing out across the western hills. The immense volume reverberated against the sides of the Rock even from the mile distance.

Each of the combatants took up positions around the edge of the ovular arena. To Harry's left stood a knight from the Stormlands bearing the lightning bolt of House Dondarrion, on his right was a squire of an age with him holding an old oak shield and a longsword.

Harry clenched and unclenched his hands in anticipation as they gripped the hilts of his swords. They were good weapons well balanced, and sturdy. _Nothing special, but the man behind the weapon means more than the thing in his hand._ There was a signal from Lord Tywin in the royal viewing stand, and then it began.

He was unsurprised when both the man on his left and right chose to come toward him instead. _As far as they know, I am no one particularly important or dangerous when compared to Ser Gwayne and Gerion Lannister._ Harry let them come, both of them approaching slowly. He closed his eyes briefly, took a single deep breath and then he moved. He slashed out with his left hand at the squire on his right, the young man did exactly as he expected, bringing up his shield to guard from the attack but Harry wasn't stationary. He pivoted and moved quickly, coming to rest behind the squire without his even seeing it as he cowered behind his shield.

With his right foot, Harry kicked the squire squarely in the back and into the Dondarrion knight. The knight reacted quickly, using his own shield to toss the flailing squire down into the dirt but Harry rushed him then, bringing the sword in his right hand down in a tight arc, striking the knight's sword just above the guard and forcing it from his grasp without any issue. He knocked the man back, forcing him to tumble over the squire who still struggled to get to his feet. The two were now a mess of limbs, Harry put the tip of each of his swords to their necks and they both looked up at him angrily from their places on the ground. _No doubt they are wishing that they had chosen differently now._ Both begrudgingly called out their defeat. The crowd just behind Harry, who had the best view of the quick, efficient spectacle cheered loudly.

But despite his quick victory against clearly inferior opponents, Harry was far from complacent. He felt movement from his left and stepped back as Ser Gwayne's sword came a scant distance from driving through his left shoulder. He brought both swords up to challenge the Kingsguard, and the man smiled from behind his white enameled helm, "I think it is time I repay you for the last time we saw each other in a melee." The Gaunt knight was a fine swordsman, otherwise he would not be among the Kingsguard but he was aging, going on five and forty.

"No Ser," Harry responded lowly, "I think you shall meet the same end as the last we met one another." The man laughed and slashed at Harry. The younger man deflected the blow downward with his left hand, and stabbed at the Kingsguard with his right.

His sword made a violent thud as it lodged into the polished oak of Ser Gwayne's shield. Harry ripped it free of the shield and made to slash at the knight's thigh but he pulled it back before the blow could make contact. Gwayne pushed out with his shield trying to knock Harry in the chest but he side stepped the blow and ended up on Gwayne's shield side. Harry cut low at the Kingsguard's leg but he lifted it up and swung out with his shield as he turned and brought his sword down in a wide arc that would have bashed into Harry's helm were it not for his quick deflection of the blow.

They traded blows back and forth, neither wishing to give an inch for nearly twenty minutes as the melee raged on within the arena. Once another squire attempted to take advantage of their distraction but Harry had stepped passed Gwayne and brought his blade to the chest of the man without him even realizing Harry had noticed him. The man yielded without any further contest.

Sweat dripped along Harry's face and he could feel the sting of it in his eyes but he paid it no mind as he took a step back after locking blades from the Kingsguard. He could feel the man slowing and so sought to end it. He attacked viciously, raining down a hail of blows on the older man's person. His shield, once pristinely polished was wearing quickly, splinters now coming up with each blow. As Harry pushed him back he brought both of his blades down together in a diagonal slash from left to right. The blow shattered Ser Gwayne's shield and caused him to cry out in pain. _Probably broke his arm with that one._ He fell to one knee and Harry made to slash at the man's head but there was a cry of "Yield!" before the stroke reached home. Ser Gwayne removed his helmet and scowled up at Harry, "First I suffered Arthur, and now I must suffer you. It would seem I am doomed to fall to Dayne knights for the rest of my tourney days."

Harry looked around to make sure that no one was near who might attack him before offering his hand to the man, "You shall if I have any say in the matter, Ser." The Kingsguard chuckled as he turned to make his way out of the arena.

Harry could feel the adrenaline pumping in his veins as he surveyed the field. Any thought of fatigue or pain far from his mind. _Father always says that some men are born to hold a sword in their hand, born to fight. Arthur is one of those sorts of men, sometimes I wonder if I am as well._ The fight was dangerous… and exhilarating. Harry might love a good book, or spending his time with Ashara, but there was something to be said for the feeling of a good fight.

Over the next hour, the field thinned from the thirty that remained to just ten. Gerion Lannister was beaten down and out of the competition by Randyll Tarly, who seemed to be serving as Mace Tyrell's protector much to the jeers of the crowd. Ser Oswell removed three western knights from the competition before being caught unaware by the large shoulder of Gregor Clegane. The massive young man proved himself born to this sort of thing, despite his young age, as he remained in the competition. Robert remained as well, having forced Ser Lyn to yield after a painful blow to the chest with his warhammer.

It was as Harry threw down a knight of House Royce that he could feel himself being approached from behind. He turned to see Gregor approaching him with long strides. Harry could just see his eyes through the slits of his great-helm. There was madness in those eyes, rage, and a hint of something that Harry would not have expected: calculation. The boy was four inches taller than Harry and probably weighed sixty more pounds than him but Harry had little doubt that he could bring him to his, admittedly, large knees. _It takes more than great size to be a great fighter._

The massive boy charged at Harry, greatsword held aloft. The young wizard side stepped the blow and slashed at Gregor's arm. With a speed that belied his great size, he moved out of the way of the blow and made to strike Harry with his gauntleted hand. Harry avoided without issue and stepped around and away from the Clegane heir. Harry knew from experience that the advantage of a greatsword came in its reach but with a boy the size of Gregor, and with that kind of raw strength, caution was certainly necessary.

Gregor made to slash at Harry's head, he leaned back to avoid it and faster than a Dornish snake, he lashed out with one of his swords and struck the big brute in the forearm just between the vambraces and elbow guard. There was a spurt of blood and a grunt of pain as Harry's blade came away red. Gregor looked perplexedly at the injury and roared with rage. He brought his weapon over his head and made a huge arc attempting to cleave Harry in two. He sidestepped but then the flat of the blade hit him in the back knocking him off balance and headlong into the dirt.

Harry held onto his swords as he rolled away from a stab aimed for his back. He pushed himself onto his feet and smiled slightly. _Gregor is like a beast in the woods, give him battle and blood and he goes mad. Get him tired and it will be an easy victory._

They traded blows together for another fifteen minutes. Gregor was quick for his size but Harry was far faster, his reflexes always having been his greatest asset, slightly enhanced by his magical affinity. With each parried blow, and dodged attack Gregor expended that much more energy. Harry noticed something as they continued on though. _He isn't just trying to take me out of the melee. He is trying to kill me._ Such a thing was poor form, and highly frowned upon. While accidents happened during these events, no one ever deliberately tried to kill their fellow combatants. _But why would Gregor want me, specifically, dead._ Harry's gaze fell on the Lord of Casterly Rock for less than a second as that thought passed his mind.

Harry ducked underneath a swipe from Gregor's greatsword and brought both of his swords down in a vertical line; one blade made contact with the fingers wrapped around the weapon, a slight line of red falling from the black armor as it came away, while the other forced the weapon out of the brute's hands. Unperturbed, Gregor made to strike Harry again with one of his massive fists but he avoided it, while at the same time kicking the greatsword away. As the boy righted himself for another attack straightened and drove the point of one of his swords into Clegane's chest while moving the other to his neck. This brought Gregor up short, if for just a moment.

He waited a moment to hear the expected word in such a situation but they didn't come. Instead, Gregor reached up and grabbed the blade of the sword, much to the surprise of the crowd and made to butt his head into Harry's. Reacting quickly, he released the sword held in the iron grip and moved away from danger. He spun around Gregor quickly, the big young man having tired considerably, he didn't have the time to stop Harry. With both hands, Harry took the sword that was still in his hands and drove it deep into the back of his opponent's thigh and with a slight push of his magic it drove clean through the thick, muscled appendage. Gregor's roar could be heard over the din of the crowd, even as they grew louder at the offerings of blood. Gregor swung at Harry with his arm but fell to one knee from the injury. Harry came back around his front and kicked him hard, driving the boy to his back. Yet again, there was no call of yield. _The beast doesn't know when he is beaten._

Harry grabbed his other sword from where it had been flung and approached the fallen boy slowly. As Harry drew closer a hand flashed out to try and grab at him. Harry pinned the offending appendage down with his foot and took one of his swords and drove it through Gregor's hand and down into the mud pinning it there. As he made his way around toward Clegane's head, he tried again with the other arm to swing at Harry. Tired of these games, Harry treated his other hand to the same treatment. The massive young man was now spread eagle, both of his hands pinned in the ground and seeping blood into the dirt. Harry kicked Gregor in the head once, hoping it might knock him out but there was no such luck as it only caused the beast to growl. Harry leaned down and pulled the great-helm from his head. He unsheathed his dagger and brought it to his throat, "Yield?"

Gregor was enraged as he stared up defiantly, and he shook his head ever so slightly. "You have been beaten!" Harry screamed in his face, "Yield, you stupid fuck or I will take this dagger, drive it through your eye and out the back of your skull."

Something in Harry's eye told Gregor the truth of those words. Realization dawned in his dark eyes then, his voice was deep and almost pained as he said the one word, "Yield." Harry looked down at the boy and nodded once before he stood. He went to each of his swords and ripped them out of Gregor's damaged hands he stepped away and watched as the brute stood slowly, in pain, and limped his way out of the arena nursing his injured hands. It was only then that Harry took stock of what remained.

There were only three men left now, himself included. Ser Gerold and Robert were fighting one another having bested Randyll and Mace respectively.

Harry let out a long breath before walking toward the fray, a deep calm falling over him. _I am ending this now, and quickly._ The White Bull noticed him first and lashed out with his sword, the only weapon available to him having long since lost his shield in the melee. Harry dodged the attack and stepped aside. Gerold slashed at him again even as Robert brought his hammer down to try and crush Harry's chest. He avoided the sword easily but the warhammer crushed his right hand hard as he tried to avoid the blow. He felt bones in the hand break as the sword in that hand fell uselessly to the ground. But the move worked out well enough as he ended up directly behind the heir of Storm's End as he was forced to defend against the Lord Commander. Harry brought the edge of his sword up and along the flesh of Robert's neck. Unlike Gregor, Robert had the good sense to know when he was beaten. He yelled out his defeat loudly, and though he was displeased with his loss, you could still hear the joy of battle in his voice. Harry backed away and faced Ser Gerold as Robert made his way off.

The usually pristine white armor of the Kingsguard was stained with stray drops of blood and a good deal of dirt. Ser Gerold was breathing heavily. He had lost his helm some time earlier and his greying hair was plastered to his sweat-drenched face.

The exchange that ended it was quick, their blades met in a clang of steel as Gerold pressed an attack but in his fatigue, he left his chest open to attack as long as Harry was willing to endure some pain. He used his broken right hand to punch the White Bull hard in the ribs, forcing the air from his lungs and catching him unsuspecting, he stiffened in pain. Harry put the tip of his sword to the Kingsguard's neck at a high angle and looked him in the eye. The man nodded and dropped his sword before stepping away.

A loud cheer rang out as the excitement came to an end after just under two hours. Harry smiled at the gathered crowd, before turning to the royal stand and offering a bow. Aerys was clapping disinterestedly, while Tywin clapped with the common look of stoicism on his face. Cersei was sitting next to her brother and was smiling down at Harry, clearly pleased that he had managed the victory after being given a token of her favor. He looked to Rhaegar, surprised to see Arthur just next to him, they each offered him a small smile as he turned and made his way out of the arena.

Harry made his way to the tent that the guards had set up the previous day and fell heavily into one of the cots there as he began stripping himself of his armor. It was as he was pulling his gauntlets off that Arthur found him. His injured right hand was bruised and heavily swollen, "You will have to spend a month or two without using that hand." Arthur said with a smile, "If you're lucky, you'll be able to use it again by the time we arrive back at Starfall."

Harry focused his attention on the swollen appendage and turned it over, "I don't know, I think it was just a nasty hit that left a nastier bruise. Give it a day maybe two, and it will be fine."

Arthur shook his head disbelievingly though didn't refute Harry's claim always having been rather surprised by how quickly he managed to heal from injury. He sat down beside the younger man and rested a hand on his shoulder, "Well done, Harry, truly. Take the rest of the day to heal as best you can," He chuckled softly, "luckily for you the joust doesn't finish until tomorrow."

Harry nodded tiredly as he continued to strip himself of his armor. He winced slightly as he felt the rather large bruise forming on his back. Arthur stood then and left him to his own company but not before stopping at the entrance to the tent, "Once we return home, I am of a mind to knight you." Harry looked to him wide-eyed, "You are a man grown, Harry. You understand what it means to be a knight better than most, and you can use your steel better than even more. With your victory today, no one would question my decision."

"Why not do it here?" Harry questioned.

"I would think you wish for your father and mother to see the event." Harry smiled at that and Arthur turned away again, "Rest now."

Doing as Arthur recommended, Harry rested there in the tent as the day passed into night. But as darkness encroached and the itching in his hand grew evermore irritating he felt the need to leave the confining tent. He walked through the many tents and into Lannisport, he passed through the cobbled streets without garnering much attention, ignoring merchants as the peddled their wares. _I may have won the melee but a helm hides a great deal._ As much as he someday hoped to make a name for himself, Harry relished the anonymity at the moment. _I have learned well from my counterpart that there is good attention and there is bad, and those who one day sing your praises can be mocking you in their cups the next._

He wandered idly through the city until he reached the northern gate, he turned west from there and made his way toward the Sunset Sea, pushing through bushes and stepping around trees. It was only a short walk before he was looking out over the rocky shore.

The stars overhead reflected on the rippling tide as Harry walked to the water's edge. He sat down there and put his damaged hand into the water. He hesitated just a moment as he prepared for what was to come. He focused and spoke a few words in Rhoynish. The water around his hand began to glow a light blue, and he felt as the broken bone of his hand began to mend. Then it happened, pain shot through his body, forcing his muscles to tighten as he felt the return of that broken bone threefold through every nerve of his body _._ Slowly the pain ebbed away, until he was able to breathe easier once again. _Still not half as bad as regrowing an entire set of bones in my arm or that fucking Unforgivable._

In the past three years, Harrion had learned the value of his counterparts sort of magic. _Even if I still have trouble doing a good deal of it._ He could lock and unlock doors with ease now, could use a silencing charm, light fires, and despite his initial misgivings about the subject he could now transfigure small things but he was working his way up to being able to transfigure, or even conjure, weapons. _It would be an invaluable talent in battle._

Over the years, Harrion had noticed some… inherent differences between the magic of his world and that of his counterparts. Even the simple spells, those of basic utility, which came quite easily to the witches or wizards of Hogwarts, had a cost for Harrion when cast. Most often it was a simple thing, just a slight drain on his stamina, though the first time it could damn near knock him out depending on the spell. _I am beginning to believe that all magic of this world just takes more from a person, or perhaps the wand truly is that great a boon when dealing with magic._ Still, he made solid progress even as his counterpart suffered through evermore dangerous situations at his school. His greatest disappointment came in his inability to master the combat spells. It seemed that those spells that manifested as lights shot from the tip of the wand were infinitely more difficult to produce without that focus.

Harry was broken from his musings, as he heard voices behind him. There was a faint light emanating from the treeline. From what he could tell, it was three younger girls moving away from the city. _Curious, what could they be looking for?_ Intrigued, Harry stood and made to follow the light after ensuring he would not be seen. He gained quickly and could hear the voices more clearly.

"They say her tent is somewhere nearby,"came the unmistakable voice of Cersei Lannister.

Jeyne Farman spoke quietly, almost as though she were scared, "We really shouldn't be doing this."

"It will be fine Jeyne," Melara consoled her; "don't you want to know the future?" Those words brought Harry up short just as he passed a well. He had some experience with diviners. _Then again, that may be a bit generous for that drunk that teaches Harry divination._ Not to mention prophecy. _Treacherous things that only become guaranteed when someone chooses to believe in them._ Harrion couldn't help but think of the prophecy that had all but defined his counterpart's life. _Tom was the agent of his own demise when he decided to attack an infant, and in the end, I have little doubt that I… he will be the victor._

They walked awhile longer until they reached a lone tent, the fires at its entrance had puttered out and a dim light came from within, Cersei entered without hesitation, Melara close behind, but Jeyne faltered before stumbling through the flap. Harry stopped and stood off to the side of the entrance, listening.

There was a muted thump within the tent as Cersei's voice carried outside, "Wake up, we want our future's told." Suddenly the tent flap opened and Jeyne Farman rushed out her brown cloak whipping up behind her.

Harry watched her fleeting image until he heard a new, raspy voice whisper from within, "Begone."

"We came for a foretelling," Cersei explained to the new voice.

"Begone," The voice came again, louder this time.

"We heard that you can see into our futures," Melara spoke up, "We want to know which men we will marry."

The voice spoke that same word a third time, "Begone."

Tywin's daughter was not the sort to be denied, "Give us a foretelling," She said petulantly, "or I'll go to my lord father and have you whipped for insolence." There were few who could not be cowed by the thought of Lord Tywin.

"Please," begged Melara, "Just tell us our futures, then we'll go."

"Some here have no futures," The raspy voice muttered, though Harry could hear all the same, "Come, if you will not go, fools. Come, I must taste your blood." Harry nearly burst through the tent flap at that, he knew well that there was power in blood, the sort that ought not be played with by the unwitting. Curiosity got the better of him though, and so he waited.

"Here," the word was whispered, "give it here." He could hear a soft sucking sound as the woman no doubt took the young girls' blood. "You are allowed three questions, you will not like my answers. Ask, or begone with you."

Harry could almost see the stubborn set of the lion girl's jaw. A girl like Cersei Lannister didn't have the good sense to be afraid, "When will I wed the prince?" She questioned the sorceress. _Given Aerys' temperament, and ill will toward your father I doubt you ever will._

"Never," was the succinct reply, "You will wed the king." Harry did not care for the implication of those words. _Though perhaps… she will marry Rhaegar, once Aerys is dead and he is free to choose for himself._ That seemed the best possible meaning, for Rhaegar or Cersei, even if Harry was doubtful that was what it meant. His thoughts were mirrored by the young Lannister.

"I will be queen though?" Cersei asked perplexed.

"Aye," She conceded, "You shall be the Queen, until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all you hold dear.

Anger tinged in Cersei voice as she replied, "If she tries I will have my brother kill her." Harry almost laughed at the unwavering confidence she had in that fact. Despite her anger, it did not stop her from asking her last question, "Will the king and I have children?"

"Aye, six and ten for him and three for you," Was the reply. Harry shook his head, having little doubt that whoever wed Cersei, in this supposed future, it would not be Rhaegar. _I don't think Rhaegar has it in his nature to father thirteen bastards._ The old woman was not done though, "Gold shall be their crowns and gold their shrouds," she said, "And when your tears have drowned you, the valonqar shall wrap his hands around your pale white throat and choke the life from you."

"What is a valonqar? Some monster?" _No, not a monster, just a little brother._ Cersei seemed unconvinced by the woman's warning, "You're a liar and a warty frog and a smelly old savage, and I don't believe a word of what you say. Come away, Melara. She is not worth hearing."

But Melara resisted the golden haired girl, "I get three questions too," the shadows in the tent shifted as the older girl moved closer to the crone within, "Will I marry Jaime?" She blurted out. He heard Cersei scoff lightly at the very thought.

"Not Jaime, nor any other man," Said the sorceress, "Worms will have your maidenhead. Your death is here tonight, little one. Can you smell her breath? She is very close." The words were threatening, and at the mention of young Melara's death, Harry finally had heard enough. He moved quickly to the opening of the tent, making himself visible again and stepped through the tent flap.

The woman inside was a hideous old thing. Her eyes were yellow, and crusted with something vile. She was short, squat, and wart-covered, with pebbly greenish jowls. Her teeth were all but gone and there was a smell of sickness that pervaded the tent. Her yellow eyes left Cersei as he appeared behind her and they opened wider in surprise and something else he could not place.

"The only breath we smell is yours," Cersei sneered at the old woman, unaware of Harry's presence behind her. She made to grab at a jar by her elbow, but Harry's large hand held her elbow firmly before she had the opportunity to do anything with the substance. She turned to look at him suddenly with angry emerald eyes, "Release me," She demanded, "Or I shall tell my father of this."

Harry was not cowed by the threat, knowing it to be an empty one given her never having should have been there, "I am sorry, my Lady." He took her arm and pushed it down to her side, "But I did not wish for you to do something rash. She seems a petty woman, who would not hesitate to curse you for such actions." He looked to the old woman whose gaze had yet to leave him.

"Her magic is false," Cersei responded fiercely.

"Maybe so, my Lady," He gestured to the crone who had a malicious glint in her eye, "but I think it is better not to risk it."

Cersei pursed her lips, "Very well," she conceded before grabbing at Melara's hand, "we should leave this place." Harry let them pass by him as he kept on eye on the sorceress.

Once they had gone, she smiled toothlessly at him, "Well, what have you come for boy? Perhaps you would like a glimpse into your future as well? Find out what woman you are to marry? I know of ways that could give you that pretty young thing that just left this tent."

"Would that not make your prophecies false?" He retorted sharply even as he backed away, toward the tents exit, "No, I shall leave the future where it belongs. Your prophecies are only as true as we make them."

"Magic has a way of making things possible that should not be… though I would say you already know this truth." She sighed disappointedly, "It is a shame, I have little doubt it would be a tasty meal, and the stories I could tell you." She licked her lips and muttered just loud enough to hear, "I can almost taste it on you from here"

He resisted the urge to shudder at the implications, "I call your stories false. Melara will not die tonight," Harry said firmly, "nor will Cersei be the one to do it. I will make sure of it." The woman just smiled evilly as he turned to go.

As he reached the flap she spoke once more in her croaking whisper, "There is a storm raging in Dorne tonight, a breaker of ships. But it will be a dagger in the rain that is felt most keenly." He didn't respond as he pushed through the tent flap and with long strides made to follow after the two young ladies that had left the tent shortly before him.

It did not take long, as he found them talking near the well he passed earlier. Melara's voice met him as he entered the small clearing where the well resided, she was sitting on the edge of the stone ring surrounding the hole, "Of course I wish to marry Jaime," she gushed excitedly, her earlier fear having been forgotten since leaving that wretched tent, "He's handsome, and rich, and heir to Casterly Rock."

From where he stood a few feet away, he could see as Cersei's face scrunched up in irritation. She took a step toward the slightly older girl and made to push her, but stopped as Harry's deep voice startled her, "My lady," she looked to Harry and quickly put her hands back down to her sides, actually looking slightly shamefaced, "I believe it would be best if we return you two to your fathers." Both girls nodded slightly.

They made their way in silence back to the tourney tents, Melara cast Harry a few speculative glances which he ignored, while Cersei seemed to be lost in thought. They reached Tybolt Hetherspoon's tent first, "Death will not find you tonight Melara, nor for many nights to come. Think nothing of that old crone's words, and sleep well." She nodded shyly and made her way into her father's tent.

Harry turned to Cersei, "My lady, shall we?"

She nodded slowly, her eyes narrowed in thought, "I am glad that Melara did not fall victim to some ill fortune." She seemed earnest, despite her earlier anger. "It may not have been the case if not for you, and Maggy's words would have proven true." She muttered the last to herself.

"As am I," Harry agreed, pretending not to hear her second statement. He glanced at the golden girl beside him and decided that his experience might offer some comfort, "Prophecy is often a fickle thing, from everything I have managed to read of it. It seems to me that it is only when one fears the words, let's them fester in the back of their mind, and then acts to try prevent the thing they fear that the prophecy ends up coming true."

"You are saying that it is best to put no stock in Maggy's words, that if I give them thought it will be that much more likely to happen?" Harry nodded and she remained silent for a long while as they made their way up the hill toward the Lion's Gate on foot. It was roughly a miles walk, and halfway there Cersei spoke again, "Do you know what valonqar means?"

"I do, my Lady," she looked at him expectantly, "it means little brother." A scowl marred her pretty young face at those words. Harry had heard of her distaste for her youngest brother from Oberyn after their visit their around his birth. _She is already thinking of how he might one day choke the life from her._

"I do not presume to counsel you," Harry started cautiously, "but do you not have two little brothers? Both Jaime and Tyrion?"

Her head snapped in his direction as she spoke sharply, "Jaime would never harm me."

Harry nodded slightly, "I have little doubt that is true, but why do you believe that so firmly?" She looked perplexed so he elaborated, "It is because of the love you have for him, and the love he holds for you in turn. You believe that love will always be enough that he would never harm you." He hesitated, "Apologies for my bluntness, my Lady, but I know of your… hatred for young Tyrion."

"He killed my mother," She said spitefully, "He is a little monster, and he should have died in his crib."

"As you say," Harry said patiently, "but I met your mother once, and all who speak of her say she was a kind woman," Cersei smiled at the memory of her mother, "Do you believe the Lady Joanna would have thought of him in such a way?"

This brought her up short, so Harry pressed on, "I know what you are thinking Cersei; you can hear those words in your head, despite your best efforts, and you can feel a seed of fear regarding the volanqar… and it makes you hate Tyrion all the more," She glared up at him and he feared he had overstepped but she remained silent, and actually gestured for him to continue, "And that hate could easily turn to abuse, abuse that will only engender hatred in him for you," He laughed mirthlessly, "I know of what I speak in this regard, my Lady, my own relatives abused me for reason I did not understand and I can assure you I did not wish for their good health." _The Dursely's deserve the deepest pits of the seven hells for how they treated Harry._

"In your fear, you will give form to the very person you hope to avoid." He shrugged his shoulders, "I am not saying you must love Tyrion, but surely treating him poorly will create the sort of anger that could make him capable of kinslaying, the very seed of fear that is now in the back of your mind."

"You are very bold for a squire born a street urchin," Cersei said plainly, causing him to chuckle. He was glad to hear no anger in her voice, "I will… I will think on what you said. Jaime has always said things of a similar nature, perhaps it is time I give them some consideration."

"Besides my lady," Harry said contemplatively, "the crone only said little brother, not your little brother. And you do not seem the sort of young woman, who would live in fear of every little brother she ever comes to meet."

She smiled wryly at that, "No, I suppose I'm not." They passed through the Lion's Gate then, and made their way into her father's halls. They reached a corridor where they would go their separate ways.

Cersei looked up at him, she was only ten after all, and offered her hand, "Thank you for escorting me, squire. And congratulations on your victory today, I was pleased to see that my chosen participant proved the champion."

Harry grabbed her hand with his right and leaned down to kiss it, "It was my honor, Lady Cersei." He went to pull his hand away but she grabbed it before he had the opportunity to turn away.

Her head was tilted to the side, as she looked at his larger, calloused hand, "Was that not the hand that Lord Robert injured in the melee today?" _Shit, I knew I forgot something._ Usually he would have had the good sense to wear a pair of gloves after such a healing.

Harry resisted the urge to run a hand through his hair in his nervousness, "It is, though it was not so serious an injury as it appeared. Healing salves saw the bruising righted quickly and there was no further damage."

She looked suspicious but allowed the matter to drop, "Good night to you, Harry." She turned then and walked away. He did the same and ran a hand through his hair. _What a day?_

* * *

There was a splintering of wood, a whoosh of air, and heavy thud as Prince Rhaegar crashed into the dirt. The crowd cheered, though not so loudly as one might expect. _They wanted the Prince of Dragonstone to win the event obviously._ But Harry cheered as loudly as he could, knowing full well that Rhaegar would be happy for his friend's success.

The crowd watched as Ser Arthur brought his horse to a stop beside the fallen prince and dismounted. He offered Rhaegar his hand which was gladly taken. The prince removed his helm as did Arthur; he took his friends arm then and lifted it into the air. With that movement, the crowd truly came to life roaring so loud as to be nearly deafening. There were whispered words between the two for a few short minutes, and Arthur remained there as Rhaegar walked to the viewing stand to retrieve something. As he returned to his friend he gestured to Harry. Hesitantly, he made his way out across the horse trodden mud.

The horses were led away by two guards as Rhaegar approached the two men with a smile. He raised his hand for silence, and quiet fell over the gathered crowd faster than Harry would have thought possible. "Good people of Lannisport, of the west, of this fine kingdom," He smiled widely as he looked over the many adoring faces, somber as he could be, Rhaegar never failed to speak eloquently when put in the situation, "We have had wonderful competition these past three days, and it has given us two victors." There was a loud cheer as he gestured to Arthur and Harry, "Let us reward them for their skill and the spectacle they have provided." He handed them each a large pouch of golden coins, more than any of the gathered small folk would ever see in their lives, let alone make. "I give you Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, and his squire, Harry." The stands shook as the noise rose once again. Arthur waved to those gathered, as did Harry though slightly more timidly.

His eyes found the king and the Hand beside him. Lord Tywin did not clap, nor did Aerys for that matter. There seemed to be a greater rift in the pair today than there had been the days prior, a frostiness that could only mean something had transpired between them.

He was nudged out of the tourney grounds by Arthur, who retrieved his palfrey before they walked to the guard's tent. All the while Harry silently contemplated the apparent situation in the royal viewing stand. _I would bet all of my winnings that Aerys has refused Tywin's offer of Cersei._ They reached the guards tent, and Arthur looked to Lucas, "Pack your things; we will be leaving before nightfall." Confused, Lucas just nodded his head as Arthur strapped Dawn to his back where it belonged, "Harry, with me. We shall retrieve our things from the Rock."

They mounted up and made their way the short distance to the Rock, "Why the hasty exit?" Harry questioned his friend.

"Rhaegar informed me there is to be no closing feast," Arthur explained, "Such a thing would be inappropriate given the fresh animosity between Tywin and Aerys. I would not suffer through the gossip that will no doubt follow Tywin's decision. And given everything going on at home, with my mother, I would return there now that things are done. Rhaegar all but insisted upon it," He furrowed his brow at that, but shook himself quickly "I believe he would do the same if he could."

They packed up their things, securing their winnings among their bags. They exited the room, and made their way out. As they neared the Lion's Gate, they turned a corner and Harry very nearly ran into Cersei with Melara just by her side. Her eyes appeared red and swollen, "Harry, Ser Arthur," She said primly, "One must wonder why the two champions of this tourney are rushing to leave this place."

"Apologies my Lady," Harry said kindly, "but word reached us of Lady Larra's worsening condition this morn." He lied easily and Arthur had the good sense not to interject. "Ser Arthur wishes to return to Starfall as fast he can."

Cersei nodded slightly, "Understandable, the best to your mother, ser, it is a terrible thing to lose one so dear unexpectedly. I hope you need not suffer it."

"Thank you, Lady Cersei, I can only hope her condition takes a turn for the better." That at least was the truth.

They made to step around her but she grabbed Harry's arm as he passed, Arthur just kept moving, "Your words to me last night, I believe I shall remember them for quite some time. They will be a comfort given my recent disappointment; whatever else I may think, I shall not put any stock in that vile old crone's words."

Harry smiled faintly, "I am sorry you have suffered the disappointment you have," he told her earnestly, "A decision today could be changed tomorrow, perhaps the king will have a change of heart." She did not look over hopeful, nor did she question his guess.

"I would be happy for such a thing," She told him, "Safe travels home, Harry." Despite her clear frustration, she held her head high. _That girl is as willful and prideful as I've ever met._ He left her then and ran to catch up with Arthur

Within the hour, Harry and Arthur were making their way south along the Ocean Road. They faced no trouble on the road and within the month they arrived back in Dorne. All six of them were happy to see the Palestone Sword high above the Torrentine as they came upon Starfall at dusk one night.

Their horses cantered through the gates with no fanfare; in fact, there was only one person in the yard.

Ashara's long dark hair hung loosely around her shoulders. Her haunting violet eyes watched Harry as he made his way toward her. She did not smile that bright smile that he so often saw from her, and that is when he noticed what she was wearing. It was a simple thing that hugged tightly to the generous swell of her chest and the gentle curve of her hip. _She grows more beautiful every day._ He couldn't help the stray thought despite his confusion. The dress she wore, it was black.

Arthur was upon her with his long strides, and as he drew near, one word left his mouth, almost as a plea, "Mother?" Ashara just glanced at her brother and shook her head slightly before her gaze found its way back to Harry.

He stood right in front of her and he could see wetness at the corner of her eyes, "Ashara, what has happened?"

For a moment it seemed as though she didn't have the heart to speak, "It's your father, he's gone." She threw herself at him then, wrapping him in a tight hug. Tears came to his eyes unbidden as he buried his face deeper into her raven hair.

* * *

AN: There you have it. I really enjoy writing these tourneys and I had a good time with this entire chapter. I know that this is a slow building sort of fic, but that is because I am trying to build up characters that are only spoken of in stories in the books, while also setting little things up, little hints that will have greater implications down the road. Hopefully you are finding the story enjoyable despite its rather slow pace, eventually there will be significant divergences but it is going to take some time as Harry builds up his name and deals with other issues.

Until next time everyone. Thanks for reading.


	7. Chapter 7

AN: Thanks as always for the reviews everyone. I try to respond to any questions or concerns but if I missed one let me know. As for guest reviews...

coldblue: First to clear something up, Larra and Ulric are both fine, Reynard is the only one dead. 1) Possibly 2) There is a good chance that Harry will at some point acquire Valyrian swords. 3) Eventually, yes 4) No 5) Not saying he will ever be on it, but probably Master of Laws 6) Probably no 7) Oberyn has already left Oldtown 8) Possibly 9) Probably not 10) Wait and see.

reader: The bandit was already dragged away when Arthur mentioned Harry's relatives. The leg wound will be addressed in the future, not to mention his hands, but sufficed he will not be entirely unaffected by the wounds. Given Robert's nature he would to be known for beating a Kingsguard, not another squire at the end of a melee.

Guest: Right now, they are just basic castle-forged steel longswords.

* * *

Harry walked through Starfall's white stone halls numbly, his hand clutching unconsciously to Ashara's slimmer one as she led him along. Arthur had left the two of them in the courtyard, offering his heartfelt condolences before departing in search of his father. Though he schooled his features well, Arthur was clearly affected by the loss of his master-at-arms and the man who had done his utmost to make him the best knight possible.

No words were shared as they drew closer to their destination, the only sound in the otherwise consuming silence was the soft pad of their footfalls on the floor. Ashara kept glancing at him worriedly, and squeezing his hand in an attempt to offer some small comfort. They came to the door to his parent's, _no my mother's,_ quarters. Looking to him one final time, Ashara made to leave but before she could let go, he gave her hand a strong squeeze. He couldn't bring himself to speak at the moment, and hoped that the small gesture would suffice to show his appreciation. Her eyes wet, Ashara gave him a slight, sad smile and nodded toward the door before walking away slowly.

Harry took a deep, shaky breath and wiped at his cheeks to try and remove any of the wetness that might remain there before pushing the door open. His mother was standing with her back to the door, wearing all black just as Ashara. Her usually lustrous, red hair looked dull and it appeared as though her arms were shaking as they stretched outward, holding her weight up against the railing of the balcony in her room.

Larra sat nearby, clearly hoping her company might serve as a small help but being in little better shape herself. She was thinner than he remembered, her skin more pale, and her cheeks more sunken and gaunt, but she was alive. When she looked down at the tiny, softly gurgling bundle in her arms she smiled, brightening slightly and looked far happier than he would have expected of a woman who had spent at least two months on the mend from a strenuous birth.

As the door creaked softly, Larra's eyes snapped up from her infant daughter and found him in the doorway. The smile fell from her face and was replaced by an unmistakable sense of sympathy. She stood and quickly closed the distance between them, placing a hand on his cheek and looking him directly in the eye. Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper, "She needs you right now, Harrion." The Daynes rarely used his proper name. That alone spoke volumes of how his mother must be handling the loss of her husband, "Speak with her." He nodded stiffly to the Lady of Starfall, still finding it hard to deal with the news but knowing that he would need to be strong for his mother's sake. Larra brought his head down level with her own, and gave him a kiss to the forehead in condolence. As she pulled away, he could see a single tear beginning to form in her eye. As Allyria began to softly cry in her arms, the door closed behind her. None of went on in the room drew Lily's attention though.

He approached her slowly, not entirely prepared for the conversation to come, but knowing that she needed him to be there. One of his hands slid along her shoulder as he came to stand beside her. It was only at that contact that her head turned away from her singular focus somewhere out across the running water of the Torrentine. Her usually vivid green eyes appeared dull, muted even as though the light behind them had been somehow snuffed out even as the whites were reddened. In the candle light of the room, he could see the shine of water on her pale, gaunt cheeks. For a moment, there was no recognition in her eyes, as her mind remained in some far off place, focused solely on her grief and loss. Then it came quickly and she was clinging tightly to him, almost desperately though her arms felt weaker than he remembered. _She's probably hardly slept or eaten since it happened._

Fresh tears fell from her eyes and began soaking into his shirt where her head rested against his chest and he was glad that he had spent his own tears in Ashara's warm embrace when arriving, otherwise he doubt he would have been able to remain strong for his mother. He brought his arms up to embrace his mother, paying attention to how tightly he squeezed lest he bruise her clearly drained and fragile body. Sobs escaped her strained throat, as her body shook with the extremity of her grief.

He didn't know how long they stood there like that, nor did he care. When it was finally over though, Lily's limbs seemed to lose all of their strength as she leaned into him limply. With little effort, Harry half-carried, half-walked her to the bed and sat her gently against the pillows that rested against the headboard. She watched him, unblinking as he grabbed a chair from the table and sat it beside the bed.

"Ashara told you what happened?" Lily's voice was raspy from lack of use, and sounded… hollow.

Harry shook his head slowly, "She only told me that father is gone," he felt the words freeze in his throat but pushed on anyway, "that he is dead but she didn't tell me how."

Lily swallowed thickly, closing her eyes for a long moment before speaking, "After your departure, Ulric asked that he travel to High Hermitage" this was not at all odd, as Reynard would venture there twice a year at least to inspect the progress of the training done for the Dayne household guard there, "I remained here, to help Ashara with Larra." Her condition had taken a turn for the worst then," She looked blankly at the wall across the room, "I thought it was for the best."

"Mother," Harry said loudly as he reached out to grab her hand, hoping to pull her attention back to the matter at hand instead of the guilt she clearly felt at not being with her husband, "I have no doubt that if father were to choose between you remaining here, or joining him on a journey that ultimately resulted in his… his death, he would choose the former every time."

Their eyes, so very similar, met and she nodded slightly, knowing the truth of his words even if she still wished things could have been different, "He remained at High Hermitage for a month," she told him quietly. Harry found the very idea of such a thing hard to believe, for as long as he could remember his parents hadn't been apart for more than a few days at a time. To think of them apart for a month was a foreign thing, "He sent a raven the day before his return journey to tell me he was coming back earler than intended," she gestured to her left and sitting there was a slip of parchment, crinkled from being gripped too often with tear stains that ran the ink.

"There was a storm," She said haltingly, and Harry felt a cold chill run up his spine. The words spoken to him that night in Maggy's tent coming to the fore of his mind with all the force of a hammer driving into a nail. His mother continued, unaware of his newfound distress, "He took a trading ship that was meant to leave three days earlier than what was originally planned." Merchant ships made their way up to Nightsong where they could then travel to Horn Hill and Vulture's Roost easily. _Father must have convinced one of the captains to bring him back on their way back out to the Summer Sea. "_ If he had taken the ship meant for him, he wouldn't have been in the river when it came up out of the south." Her voice was haunted, barely above a whisper and he had to strain just to hear the words, "It came up quickly, whipping winds, heavy rain, and thunder that shook the castle." She looked at Harry then, and he could see how much this had truly broken her, "Had it not been a merchant ship, he would have been able to reach Starfall before it struck but…" With the size of most merchant vessels, they often moved more slowly through the river to avoid any unexpected shallows.

She took a deep breath, resisting the urge to break out in tears again, and shook her head, "Nothing to be done about it now, it was a merchant ship," Harry squeezed her hand supportively, even as he fought off his own uneasiness, "I stood on the Palestone Tower to try and see out to the river but the rain came too heavily," She pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her chin. Harry had never seen his mother appear so small before, "I waited all the next day, hoping that nothing had happened to him in the storm. But then… then, three men came to Starfall and told Ulric what happened."

"It came on them so fast that they didn't have time to tie up the fore sail. The winds pushed them into rocks near the river bank. It damaged the hull, and collapsed one of the masts, trapping many of the men in the hold of the ship. They started taking on water… quickly." She smiled ever-so-slightly, a small, fond thing, "Apparently, while many abandoned the ship and made for the shore, your father and one of the crewmen freed the men from the hold." Tears threatened to spill yet again as she imagined the events, "It doesn't even surprise me that he swam into the hold trying to make sure all the men had made it out." She frowned in thought, "The crewman helping him said the prop they used to move the mast broke, trapping him below," It sounded a lie to Harry, and he had a feeling his mother had at least a passing thought of the same, but it lasted only a moment as she finished brokenly, "He drowned." She shook her head slightly, "But he saved fifteen others with his life."

"When did this happen, mother?" Harry asked, fearing that he already knew the answer.

Lily furrowed her eyebrows at the question, not sure why he would ask such a thing, but after a moment of hesitation she answered, "A month ago yesterday," she looked at him, "I believe you would have been in Lannisport for the tourney at the time." Harry nodded, staring emptily at their joined hands. _A dagger in the rain shall be felt most keenly._ If he could go back, and tear the tongue from that wretched woman's mouth. _I should have stopped her before she even had the opportunity to start._ And then guilt found its way to his heart. _By saving Melara, I may have caused my father's death._ There was no way of knowing for sure but Harry had little doubt he would worry over that very possibility for years, and even until his last day.

"Were they able to recover father's body? Are we able to properly lay him to rest?" He needed to know for sure. He wanted to see with his own eyes that his father had been taken not by the storm, but by a dagger in the dark.

Lily shook her head slowly, "The current of the river pulled it toward the sea. By the time the storm passed and it was safe to search, any trace of it was lost."

Harry nodded, knowing that he would be able to find it even if it wouldn't be the easiest thing in the world. He stood then and leaned down to place a kiss on the top of his mother's head, she smiled wetly as he leaned down to speak in her ear, "You need to eat and rest, mother." He pulled back to look her in the eye, "I know how painful this is for me, and I know it is far worse for you. But father would not want us to grieve to the detriment of our well-being." The words did little to abate his own grief but he knew that they were true. Lily looked reluctant for a moment, but could see the genuine concern in his eyes and made a noise of agreement in her throat.

He could see a subtle indication of relief behind her eyes and then he understood. His mother needed to see him, to speak to him of this loss, the only other person who might share the same sort of grief. She would never forget, and never replace her husband but now she might at least begin to live again.

He made his way to the door but stopped there before leaving, and spoke firmly with the utmost surety, "I am going to find father's body, and I am going to bring it home." Lily didn't try to stop him, try to convince him that it was too dangerous. She just believed that he would manage it, and had little doubt that it would require the use of his magic but she didn't care.

It was only a short walk before Harry was in his own room for the first time in months. He dropped onto his bed uncaring of his state of dress, and as the emotional turmoil of the last hour caught up with him he fell into a restless sleep filled with the crusted yellowed eyes and raspy voice of a fortune teller he dearly wished he never met.

* * *

Arlan, Ulric, Nesio, every household guard, and servant offered their heartfelt sympathies for the loss of his father the next morning, and while he appreciated them in the spirit they were given, his mind was concerned with other matters. _I will find my father's body, discover his killer, and determine the reason for the act. Nothing less would be enough when my father did so much for me._

In speaking with Ulric briefly, he learned that all the survivors of the wreck were staying at an inn near Starfall. Harry was heartened by these words. _I won't need to hunt down the crewman who 'helped' father in the end._

Currently, Harry was making his way toward Starfall's gate and then down to the town nearby where he intended to use one of the small skiffs to go out in search of the sunken ship that served as his father's watery grave. He had just one of his swords on his hip, and a dagger on the other,

"Harry!" a voice called out from behind him, one that usually provided him much joy but now only brought a touch of irritation to the back of his mind. Ashara rushed to his side, wearing a simple leather jerkin and pair of trousers, while her hair was tied back in a tight braid. Her weirwood bow was on her back, the string pulling the material of her jerkin tight across her chest. She looked as though she were ready for a day roving outside of Starfall. "You're going to try and find the ship." It wasn't a question, and he could see a glint in her eye that told him that she had every intention of coming with him.

He sighed and nodded his head slightly, "I am. Did my mother tell you?"

Ashara huffed from her nose indignantly, "Lily didn't need to tell me anything. I **know you,** and there is no chance that you are going to allow him to remain beneath the sea somewhere if you can find him and bring his body home." She crossed her arms in front of her and stared into his eyes with her own vivid violet ones challengingly, "I'm coming with you."

He scowled, and pursed his lips in frustration, "Ash," he said with a noticeable strain in his voice, "I can do this on my own."

Her eyes softened and she put a hand on his tense arm, "I have no doubt that you can **do it** alone, but you shouldn't **be alone** when you actually find him, because I know you will." She gave him a disarming, mischievous half-smile that he couldn't help but return, "Besides, I've always been a better swimmer than you."

He didn't even try to stop the chuckle that escaped him then, the first since finding out of his father's death. He embraced, tightly molding her shorter, feminine form to his own, "Alright you can come," He laid a gentle kiss on her cheek and whispered softly, "Thank you." He pulled away and noticed the tinge of red on her pale cheeks. It wasn't the first time they had done that to one another, and they both knew better than to tease the other over such things.

Taking her hand, he started walking briskly out of Starfall, "Come along, my Lady," he said cheekily, earning a light hit to the arm, "there is no telling how long this might take, it might even be days." _Though, my magic should allow us to manage it today, unless it was pushed all the way out to some deep chasm of the Summer Sea._

While Ashara talked to one of the fisherman along the river's bank, trying to convince him to let them borrow his skiff, Harry quietly performed an _Accio_ spell. He knew that his father's body wouldn't actually come to him, but he did feel a pull on his magic as it strained to do as he intended. He grunted in discomfort as he felt a pull to the north. _Well it looks like the ship snagged somewhere along the river bed and never made it out to sea. Perhaps we won't need the skiff after all._

Ashara came up to him with a frown on her face, "The fisherman was unwilling to let us borrow the boat," She looked up at the clear blue sky above them, "He feels he would miss out on a good catch if he leant it to us." She gave a short, good-natured laugh, "I told him that my father would reimburse him for the loss, but he said he would prefer to do honest work. I really shouldn't have been surprised."

He just nodded absently as he looked down along the Torrentine, "I don't think we'll need it," She looked at him with her brow furrowed, expecting an explanation, "Think about it Ash, we know better than most that this river is deep enough, with enough crevices to hide a sunken ship from view."

Ashara nodded, no doubt remembering back to the day years before when they found one of Nymeria's ships, "From what I remember the search took place between here and the sea, not back up the river. So horses then?"

"Horses," Harry agreed.

They rode beside each other, scanning the banks of the Torrentine for any evidence of the sunken ship. Well, Ashara scanned. Harry silently cast the summoning charm more than once, keeping himself quiet as it wore on him, but he found it an easy price to bear as they drew closer.

"The tourney," Ashara started over the quiet flow of the river beside them, "it went well?" She was looking at him inquisitively.

"I'm surprised you didn't ask Arthur yesterday, when I was otherwise occupied." Harry commented.

Ashara waved her hand airily, "He was otherwise occupied as well." She looked at him expectantly, "Besides I wanted to hear it from you."

And so he told her. Sparing no detail, he told her of the bandits on the road, their discussion with Lord Tywin, the favor he was given by Cersei, Arthur's victories on the first day of the joust, his conversations with Olenna and Janna Tyrell. It was at that point that Ashara could no longer manage to remain silent as a giggle escaped her lips.

Harry turned to her an eyebrow raised in question. Ashara controlled herself, and looked a little bit smug as she made to respond, "Between Cersei and Janna, it would seem that I have been protecting you from other advances all these years." She gave him a half-smile, "I had the rather odd image of you being the one who needed their virtue protected while I was the one to protect it."

"Ah," Harry said knowingly before laughing himself, "You have been my fair lady protector for all these years, keeping away all of the dangerous women who might seek to use me to their advantage." He could picture Ashara, looking fierce with bow in hand, threatening other noble ladies to stay away. "It would be greatly appreciated," He said dramatically, "though I must admit that I believe I can look after myself, my Lady."

"Oh, I know you can look after yourself," Ashara agreed without hesitation, "but I think I have made it quite clear I won't leave the task to you alone." They shared a fond smile before Ashara looked back to the river beside them, "You still haven't told me the whole story yet." He could see the anticipation in her eyes and knew what she was really waiting for.

"Well," He sighed despondently, "I am afraid the rest of the story is slightly disappointing in comparison to its beginning."

"You're lying, Harry." Ashara remarked without even turning her head, amusement in her voice as her long braid moved form side to side as she shook her head in false exasperation.

"Fine, ruin my fun if you must." She just waited for him to continue, not the least bit apologetic, "The feast that night was rather boring but the next day, well," He paused for dramatic effect, "I won the melee."

Ashara's head snapped around so quickly that had someone been in the way of her braid, the strike would have left a bruise. Her violet eyes were wide with excitement, "You won?! Truly?"

"Why such awe, Ash?" He asked her blankly, "Didn't you expect me to win?"

"Honestly, no." She deadpanned, even as he saw the slight traitorous twitch of her lips, "I expected you would never win a melee. You're not the most attentive squire, nor are Arthur or Nesio the best instructors."

Harry hummed to himself in thought, "Really, that isn't what I recall you saying before my departure from Starfall." He rubbed at his chin as if trying hard to remember back to the day he left, "In fact, if memory serves me well, you gave me many assurances that there was no doubt in your mind that I would be the victor, and that you even expected me to return as such."

She waved her hand dismissively, her eyes holding that familiar glint of playfulness, "I simply hoped to bolster your confidence. I didn't think it would actually work."

Harry turned from her huffily, not really offended but taking the opportunity to once more attempt summoning his father's body. His magic actually grabbed a hold of something as they were now within a few hundred yards of the wrecked ship. His attention was pulled back to the conversation at hand when he felt Ashara's leg brush his own in their stirrups and her fingers run across the back of his neck, he resisted the urge to shiver at the contact.

"You know I was only teasing, Harry." She smiled beatifically, "I knew you would return the champion and I could not be more happy for you." Her voice dropped slightly, "Your father would be incredibly proud of you." She shook the somber thought quickly though, "I fear that all you needed was another lady's favor to make that final leap."

"I think you would be entirely incorrect. I cared little for winning the melee for Lady Cersei's sake. More than anything, I wanted to win it for myself. Beside my own self-interests, I wished to win because I knew that I would get to see that radiant smile of yours upon hearing of my victory. " She was surprised by the seriousness in his voice, as they both knew she only teased, "But if I need to, I shall win a dozen more melees and the jousts to go along with them with your favor around my arm if it would set your fear to rest."

He was satisfied to see a light blush appear on her cheeks, "That won't be necessary," She said quietly, "though the thought is appreciated." She turned her eyes away from him, and he was happy to see the faint smile on her lips.

Making to continue his story, he stopped as Ashara drove her heals into the flank of her horse spurring the mare on faster and wading the animal into the shallows of the river's waters. His eyes followed her as she went and then he saw what she did. Wedged on two rocks along the riverside were the broken remnants of a ships railing.

Ashara dismounted her horse and dropped into the water of the river. As Harry neared her, she freed the piece of wreckage from where it had been pinned. She looked up to him where he still sat atop his horse, "It might be part of the ship that your father was on." She scanned the river's surface hoping to see any hint of the vessel, "Many came to see father about their lost boats after the storm, but none save your father's was a larger merchant vessel from what I remember." She sighed slightly dejected, "Though it could be much further up the river, or even somewhere we missed nearer to Starfall." She looked back south where the Palestone Sword could be seen high in the distance."

"No," Harry shook his head looking to the far bank of the river where he could see more debris, "it is nearby, I am sure of it."

Ashara appraised him as he climbed down off of his horse; she nodded slowly, "Alright, we look here then." They took the two horses and found an old knurled tree stump nearby where they tied them off so they couldn't run off.

Harry pulled off his shirt, and avoided looking over at Ashara as she did the same. _I would really rather not suffer the consequences of seeing Ashara in naught but her underthings and a pair of tight leather trousers._ On the other hand, Ashara had no qualms about looking at Harry's muscled chest and abdomen, nor did she mind as he turned his back to expose the strong lines of his back. She had seen as much before after he finished in the yard, but she quite enjoyed it all the same.

The spring waters of the Torrentine sent a chill through his body that went down into the bone but both he and Ashara ignored it. They pushed their way through the river's current, submerging as they drew nearer to the far bank. Harry felt a strong tug on his left ankle, pulling him backward so that he was looking at Ashara despite the sting of the river water in his eyes. She was pointing emphatically further up the river and toward the river bed. He looked intently to where she was indicating. There was a deep line that ran through the river bed wherein the remains of a ship was trapped. The broken mast was slightly closer to them, the tattered remains of the sail having come free of its ties and waving with the current as it went toward the sea. They both surfaced and looked at each other. Harry's eyes drifted briefly down to the material tightly clinging to her prominent bust but he resisted the urge to stare at the lovely sight.

If Ashara cared about his momentary distraction, she gave no indication, "Think we found the right ship?"

"Yes," Harry replied briefly before swimming up river, toward the ship. It was roughly thirty feet below the surface and as Harry submerged he could see the closed hatch that led to the hold. _Where I should find father._ He pushed himself down toward the bottom, his heart tight in his chest knowing what he was bound to find.

The first thing he noticed as he reached the hatch was the lock. _Still intact and the metal of the hatch doesn't appear to have been rent from the impact of the mast falling on it._ Thin rays of light faintly illuminated the otherwise pitch black interior of the broken ship. It appeared mostly empty within; a few stray fish swimming around the closed space the only thing of note. Harry swam deeper, aware that there might be something in the darkness waiting to strike but entirely uncaring of such things.

Suddenly, there was more light in the enclosed space and that is when he saw the jagged line along the hull… and the corpse that floated nearby. There were pieces of wood floating in the water, splinters that had been ripped away from the damaged area. _He tried to squeeze his way through the breech._ He grabbed the body hurriedly, not even bothering to look at it as he started to feel the tightening in his chest that indicated he would need to breath soon.

The body was heavier against his shoulder than he expected, water logged as it was, but then he felt it lighten and he looked over where Ashara helped to drag him upward. Harry could feel darkness starting to encroach on his vision even as they burst through the surface of the river. He took great gasping breaths as sweet relief filled his burning lungs. Through his loud heaving he heard a slight almost hollow chuckle to his left. Ashara was clearly trying to ignore the presence of the dead body between them, "I did say that I was the better swimmer." Harry gave her a wan smile before pushing himself toward the far bank and their horses. It felt as though it took a great deal longer going back as it did getting there.

Together they pushed the body onto the river bank. After they both stood they lifted it and walked his father's body over to the stump where they were able sit it up. The horses whinnied and neighed uncomfortably at the slight smell of death. Ashara grabbed a cloth from the horses and used it to begin drying herself as he stared transfixed at his father's face. The body and face were bloated, the skin pallid, and the fingers had the remains of unhealed wounds. But the hair was the same dark color with hints of grey around the temples, and his blue-green eyes stared out unblinkingly. Tentatively, Harry reached out two fingers and closed them. The tears came unbidden then, and Ashara quietly offered her comfort as she wrapped one of her slim arms around his waist and wrapped them together in a dry blanket. He hadn't even realized the chill in his body from the river's water. She rested her head against his shoulder as they sat there in silence for some time, the sun beating down overhead returning warmth to their bodies.

"Harry," Ashara said hesitantly, reaching her hand out toward Reynard's body. He knew where her long fingers were heading before they even reached their destination. The cloth of his father's tunic was stained in the front with blood. She lifted the fabric to look beneath, and upon seeing the wound took a sharp intake of air, "That… that is a wound from a blade."

Without speaking Harry turned his father so that they could see his back, and that is where the wound was far more prevalent. _Whoever did this knew where to strike, the blade sank cleanly into the kidneys._

Ashara looked wide-eyed at the wound and then to Harry, "Who would do this? Why would they do this?"

Harrion suspected at least one person, even if he thought it an odd thing for Tywin to do. _Then again, it did seem as though Gregor was more than eager to take my life in the melee, and the Clegans are Lannister dogs._ Instead of voicing these concerns to Ashara, he just shook his head slowly, "I don't know Ash, but I know I'm going to find out one way or another."

"What do you mean?" She asked with her brow furrowed.

"The crew of the ship resides in the inn by Starfall, including the crewman who supposedly aided my father." His eye burned with undisguised anger, "I think I should have a little talk with the man."

"Right," she said shortly, before standing and allowing the blanket to fall behind them, "what are we waiting for then?

Harry didn't respond immediately, transfixed by the exposure of her taut stomach, the swell of her scantly covered chest and the curve of her bum in the water drenched leather. He noticed she was looking at him with a self-satisfied smirk and one dark eyebrow arched. He turned away, fighting down his blush, as they both dressed themselves fully again.

Refusing to tie his father to a horse like a sack of potatoes, or the bandit from Tarbeck Hall, Harry held his father's lifeless body upright as they made their way back toward Starfall. Ashara somehow managed to ignore the body and carry on a conversation all the same.

"So…" she stretched the single word, "anything else of note happen at the tourney."

"Well Arthur won the joust," She smiled widely at that though she was entirely unsurprised, "and there was no closing feast."

"Really," she said disbelievingly, "how odd?"

"The atmosphere became rather contentious when the king refused Lord Tywin's offer of marriage between Cersei and Rhaegar." Ashara made a noise of understanding as Harry considered telling her the last thing of note that had taken place.

"Something else of note happened," Harry said slowly, not exactly sure what he planned to say. Ashara just waited patiently for him to continue, "It was after the melee, I walked through Lannisport and down to the sea. I was sitting along the shore when I heard voices in the trees. It was Cersei, and her two friends." She tilted her head in curiosity as he continued, "They were going to find a witch, Maggy the Frog, who lived near the city and could supposedly tell the future."

"You followed them didn't you?" Ashara asked knowingly, to which Harry just nodded his head.

"At first, I just waited outside of the tent. Listened to what was being said," He frowned, "I should have entered sooner, as Maggy's answers were less than pleasant regarding Cersei's future. I only ended things when she told Melara she would die that same night."

Ashara grimaced in distaste, "I hope that was not her fate that night."

Smiling slightly at her concern, "It wasn't, I made sure of it," His fell then, "And I tried to assure that Cersei took no heed of the decrepit old thing's words."

"I suppose you can only hope that she takes them to heart." She looked him squarely in the eye, "But that isn't why you've mentioned this."

"No," He admitted easily, "I mentioned it because before departing the tent, the witch had a parting message for me." His gaze fell heavily on the limp body in front of him as he spoke the words he heard that night, "There is a storm raging in Dorne tonight, a breaker of ships. But it will be a dagger in the rain that is felt most keenly."

The stricken look on Ashara's face was all the indication he needed that she understood their meaning as well. He made to speak again but struggled to voice the fear that had taken hold since learning of his father's death, "I feel that by sparing Melara her fate, I sealed my father's."

Ashara searched his eyes for a long moment before shaking her head, "No, you're wrong. Your father's death had nothing to do with your saving Melara's life. Whoever drove that blade into your father's back would have done so regardless of your actions. Do not let some loathsome witch make you think otherwise." She hesitated a moment, "Besides, if you could go back now. Would you do anything different?"

The question brought a long silence between the two of them as he thought over her words. _In that moment, could I have watched Melara fall to her death, even knowing that it might cause me some personal loss?_ As the shadow of the Palestone Sword covered them from the heat of the sun, Harry finally answered, "No, I don't think I could have brought myself to do anything differently."

"Nor would your father have wanted you to," Ashara told him quietly.

They arrived outside of the inn that housed the wrecked crew and tied their horses off. Harry decided it best to find the man responsible before returning to Starfall lest the sailor discover that they had found his father's body and tried to escape the justice Harry intended to reap on him. _After I find out who contracted him._ He pulled his father's body down and carried it into the inn, looking back at Ashara, "Stay here." She looked defiant for a second before a thought struck her and she agreed.

It was dimly lit, and smelled of stale ale and roasting meat. Two men were having a scrape in the far corner, while others were laughing boisterously over some jape told by one of their fellows. There was music being played and one of the sailors was groping a serving girl.

Harry walked to a table nearby and cleared it with his hand before gently laying his father face down onto it and pulling his shirt up to reveal the wound on his back. He slammed his hand down hard into the solid wood of the table, drawing the attention of the patrons. The music came to a muted end as he spoke loudly, "Who was the captain of the ship that ferried this man from High Hermitage to here?" He scanned the crowd looking for any hint of guilt or fear when he was approached by a rotund man with a full greying beard and small beady eyes. The merchant looked down at the corpse laid bare upon the table and paled, almost as though he were on the verge of vomiting.

Unsympathetic for his sensitivity, Harry grabbed the front of the man's shirt and pulled him close, "From the story I heard, one of your crewman was the last to see this man alive." His voice came out as a whispered snarl, "Where is he? I would have words with him." The merchant's eyes glanced upward, at the same moment as he heard a commotion on the balcony that overlooked the lower part of the inn. He caught a glimpse of dark hair and olive skin as the figure above bolted away.

Reacting quickly, Harry released the merchant and bounded up the stairs. All of the sailors just watched as he raced after the crewman. The inn was large with a dozen different rooms on the upper level but the fleeing man made the mistake of slamming the door behind him as he entered one of them. Harry ran to the door, drawing his dagger and then rushing through. He'd expected the man to attack him, throw something at him, anything to keep him at bay but instead the coward was about to jump out the window and flee. He shot to the window and made to grab the man but when he pulled backward he only came away with the loosely tied vest the man had been wearing. Cursing loudly, Harry made to follow when he saw something he wasn't expecting.

Ashara hadn't agreed to stay outside of the inn for her own safety but because she intended to stop the man if he fled before Harry managed to apprehend him. Looking from the upper window, Harry watched as she loosed an arrow from about thirty feet away and drove it squarely into the fleeing sailors left leg. The man fell to the ground with a loud cry, he continued to try crawling away from his assailants but Ashara closed the ground quickly and stopped him.

Smiling to himself, Harry made his way back downstairs stopping to look at the men in the main room, "Should anything happen to that body while I'm gone," He gestured to his father, "I will make the man who did it regret it." One of the serving girls offered him a hesitant smile as she covered the body with a blanket. Harry nodded appreciatively to her before making his way out of the inn and toward Ashara. She was standing over the wounded man with another arrow knocked and read to loose, this one aimed directly at his groin. As he came to stand beside her he could see the intense fire in her eye, he gently lowered her arm which she did slowly. She looked at him unsure of what he was going to say, "It was a fantastic shot." Her lips turned upward slightly as Harry leaned down to look the man in the eye.

"I was willing to sit down and talk with you," Harry explained twirling his dagger in his hand idly, the man's eyes were fixated on it, "But then you went and ran, all but admitted your guilt. There could have been someone else on the ship, someone who fled but no, it was you."

"I don't know what you're talking about." The sailor had a Myrish accent and a distinct note of fear in his voice. Harry didn't give any indication of his irritation, instead just reaching down and twisting the arrow sticking out of the front of his leg.

"Don't lie to me again," He told the man darkly, "You killed the master-of-arms for House Dayne, we both know it. You saw me in the inn with his body, something you didn't expect anyone to ever recover and you ran. Innocent men don't run before they are even accused of anything." _And I must admit some relief that I am not dealing with one of the Faceless Men, as it would be nearly impossible to get any information out of them. Tywin seems the sort of man who would have hired the best, so perhaps… someone else wanted my father dead._

"Now, we are going to play a little game," Harry said, the blade of his knife running along the man's thigh, eliciting a whimper. _This cowardly little shit killed my father._ "I am going to ask you a question, and you are going to answer me honestly, if you don't… well let's just say that you won't enjoy the results." He didn't particularly like doing this, but in order to find out who did this to his father, Harry was willing to do some less than honorable things. _It's a good thing Arthur didn't decide to accompany us as well, I doubt that he would approve._

The man nodded emphatically, and Harry smiled wolfishly, "Good, we understand each other then." He pointed the dagger's tip right between the man's eyes, "Why did you kill him?"

"Because I was offered a large pouch of metal, and it wouldn't have been the first time" he admitted hurriedly, clearly wanting this to be over with as quickly as possible, "I didn't need any other reason."

"You have already been paid?" Harry asked.

"Half before the job, half after it was done." The man wasn't lying, he was too afraid now to lie. _Good that means that there must be a meeting place._

"Who hired you? Where were they from?" He tried to keep any desperation from his voice, but he needed to know.

The man hesitated a moment, weighing what his contractor might do to him against what Harry might. Apparently the fear of immediate pain won out over fear of future pain, "I was hired in Volantis by a man from Westeros, who knew our vessel made port along the Torrentine. It seemed he was working for another though."

Harry leaned back, "You were to meet this man upon your return to Volantis?" The man only nodded. _It would seem I have further use of this man then._

 _"_ Then that is what you shall do." He reached down and snapped the arrow before pulling what remained clearly out of the other side of his leg, the man groaned pitifully. Harry took his knife and cut a strip of the man's shirt before tying it around the now freely bleeding wound. He lifted the man abruptly and dragged him back to the horses before throwing him over the back of his own and tying him there. A quick punch to the man's temple knocked him out and ceased his whining. Ashara stayed silent the entire time, watching him closely.

When he emerged from the inn with his father's body in his arms, she had already mounted her mare and waited patiently. She seemed to be deep in thought as she stared blankly ahead. He did not seek to break her reverie, knowing that she would tell him what was on her mind if she felt it necessary. It was only as they were guiding their horses into the stable of the castle that she spoke, "You intend to go to Volantis and find out who is responsible for your father's death." There was hint of something he didn't quite recognize in her voice.

He nodded his head slowly, knowing that it wasn't really a question, "He deserves justice, and I believe that I am the only one who can get it for him."

Ashara kneaded her bottom lip, something he found rather enticing but he also realized she only tended to do it when she was nervous, " What if it turns out to be nothing more than a futile chase, leading you from person to person endlessly, never actually finding the one truly responsible?"

"Then I will follow each new thread until there is nothing left to follow," Harry said firmly, "he would have done the same for me."

"He would have, and so would Arthur," She spoke more softly, "And so would I." She closed her eyes briefly, "I am not telling you not to do this Harry, I understand why you wish to, and I can't begin to imagine how you must be feeling knowing that his death was more than mere accident." She grabbed his hand with one of her own, "Please consider how long you might be away from Starfall, from your mother, from me before you make a decision." She seemed almost ready to cry, a rare thing. She was not the sort of young woman quick to tears. As he made to speak she released his hands and turned to walk into Starfall's halls.

Harry stared after her as the waning light of the setting sun played across her back and hair. _I have no desire to leave Ash, you most of all, but I must do it all the same. I would have you with me if I could, but I doubt your parents would ever allow it._ He knew she understood, just as he knew it would sadden her all the same.

Shaking those thoughts from his mind, he called Lucas over to help him with his new prisoner while he carried his father's body to his own room where he laid him down. _I wonder if mother's reaction will be much the same as Ashara's?_

* * *

Reynard's body was prepared with oils by a pair of silent sisters from the sept. The septon came to the castle and said some words. The Daynes were followers of the Seven, as were the Reynes, though neither family was as zealous as some others.

The ceremony was a private, short affair attended by only the Daynes, Nesio, Harry, and Lily along with a septon, maester, and those same two silent sisters. Ulric did his old friend the honor of being laid to rest with the former lords of Starfall, something for which Lily was truly grateful. His mother had no more tears to shed, instead standing stiffly, as three days after his return to the castle they placed Reynard's casket in the mausoleum that served as the final resting place for the Daynes.

Ashara wore her same simple black dress, and despite her words to him after their return to Starfall she held his hand tightly and gave it a gentle squeeze of comfort when the tomb was closed.

Harry wore chainmail beneath, for the first time, one of the tunics made for him by Ashara years prior. She had smiled radiantly when she saw it but he wore it for a purpose beyond her enjoyment. Arthur stood beside him, wearing his own armor. _We waited so that father might see it for himself, there seems no better place to do it now._

When the last of the words were said, Arthur stepped out and looked to Harry gesturing for him to kneel before him. He was grateful that he was only being put through the simplest of knighting ceremonies, in some cases the prospective knight sat a silent vigil in a sept before a statue of the Warrior before walking barefoot from the sept. Arlan and now Arthur, had only made their squire kneel as they said the words.

Arthur unsheathed Dawn and held it before him, speaking clearly, his voice echoing off the hard stone, "Harrion of House Reyne," The septon appeared surprised while the maester knew for many years but was oath-bound to maintain the confidence of House Dayne. Save for the Daynes and Nesio, no one knew of their true family name within Starfall.

Lifting the greatsword, Arthur touched first his right shoulder, "In the name of the Warrior I charge you to be brave," A touch to his left shoulder, "In the name of the Father I charge you to be just." And then back, "In the name of the Mother I charge you to defend the young and innocent." And so it went, Arthur invoked the name of all seven gods charging him to protect all women for the Maid, serve as an example for the Crone, work tirelessly for the Smith, and make death clean and swift for the Stranger. When all was done, Arthur pulled his sword away, "I bid you rise, Ser Harrion Reyne." As the ceremony came to an end, the septon, maester, and silent sisters left.

Nesio shared a brief look with Harry before following behind the others. With Harry's training having been completed, the man intended to travel with him back to the Free Cities though he had yet to say what he intended to do there.

Arthur rested a hand on Harry's shoulder, "A thing well deserved," He smiled slightly, "I suppose I shall have to find myself a new squire now, perhaps the next one won't be quite so… impertinent." They shared a laugh between them even as Arlan approached and shared similar sentiments.

As both men moved away, he was unceremoniously pulled downward so that his head rested in the crook of his mother's neck. He heard Ashara giggle and would have glared if it weren't for the vise grip his mother held him in, "Your father would be **very** proud of you." She whispered softly into his ear, "I do not look forward to your departure, but I am glad that you will try and find out who did this to him, to us." With that she pulled away and exited the dimly lit room. Larra left with her, Allyria held in her arms, leaving Harry with only Ulric and Ashara.

Ulric's once dark hair had greyed entirely in recent years, his face was lined and he still looked tired from enduring through his wife's ill health in recent months, but he smiled at Harry all the same, resting a hand on his shoulder "Your father was a fine example of what a knight ought to be; I have little doubt you will represent the institution just as well." He removed his hand then, his face hardening as he continued, "I was shocked to hear of the nature of Reynard's demise. I admit that I hoped that once you were knighted you would remain as a sworn sword to House Dayne. Our house would have boasted two of the most talented young knights in the realm; it's not something that many can say."

He paused a moment, "But I have also known you for many years, and that it was a futile hope. We have long known your ambitions are greater than merely attaining a knighthood. I will not claim to know what they are, nor where that journey might take you." He glanced in his daughter's direction, "Though I know that you intend for it to begin in Volantis, by discovering the person responsible for your father's death."

Though Harry hadn't discussed these plans with Ulric, between Ashara and his mother, he knew it would get back to him, "That is true, my Lord."

"An admirable thing, Harrion," He said earnestly, "Not all sons love their fathers so dearly, many have sought their deaths in the past." Ulric made a face as though he were preparing for something distasteful, though what it could be Harry didn't know, "Still, I find that your departure may prove fortuitous."

Harry couldn't help the look of confusion that etched its way onto his face. Ulric smiled slightly at that, "Ashara has, just recently, professed a desire to visit the Free Cities, Volantis, specifically so that she might learn first-hand of the difference between the cities Essos and Westeros." Harry looked at Ashara who was smiling at him widely, "Being only four and ten, I am reluctant to allow such a thing," he frowned slightly, "But she made several concise and convincing arguments; including that girls younger than her have already begun whelping children. Traveling to a foreign land seems a trifle in comparison." He looked at Harry intently, "She made it quite clear that you were her first and only choice of escort for this particular journey, and given that there is no telling when you might return that has left me with only one option." Ulric took a deep breath, clearly reluctant to actually finish, "She shall accompany you during your travels to the Free Cities."

Harry didn't know what to say. He was of conflicting thoughts on the whole thing. _It is wonderful to hear that I shall not be parted from her for a year… more even, but I don't know if I want her accompanying me to a foreign city where anything might happen._ He thought back to the arrow she loosed into the murderer's leg, how she didn't even flinch at the violence he was willing to inflict on him, the fear he attempted to engender. _She has always been the sort of girl who can take care of herself. Hells, chances are she'll end up keeping me safe as often as I do her._

Uncaring of Harry's inner musings, Ulric stepped very close to Harry, speaking quietly so that only the pair of them could hear, "My daughter's arguments may have swayed me to allow her to accompany you, but that doesn't mean I am pleased with the situation. Should any harm befall her, there is nothing on this earth that could keep you safe from me."

Harry didn't flinch, didn't flounder. He just looked the Lord of Starfall in the eye and spoke clearly, if quietly, "You have my oath that I shall lay down my own life in her defense. And should any harm befall her, I shall lay myself prostrate before you and accept any punishment you deem appropriate."

Ulric smiled sadly at those words, "I have little doubt of that Harrion, but it needed to be said all the same." He tilted his head slightly, "I wonder how long it has been since I was not the most important man in my daughter's life?" The question was clearly rhetorical and he shook himself of it, "You should know that I will not force Ashara into something against her will, family is important to me not the advancement of our name alone." Harry appreciated the sentiment, but Ulric wasn't finished, "But she deserves more than a sworn sword. See that she receives what she deserves." Understanding the elder man's meaning Harry nodded firmly. Ulric stepped away from him then, rested a hand on his old friend's tomb before leaving the pair alone.

Harry and Ashara looked at each other for a long moment before he gestured for them to leave. He had no desire to remain next to his father's resting place any longer. As they exited to find themselves standing within the castle walls, the sun shone through a thin layer of clouds, "Ash, would you tell me how you convinced your father and mother to allow you to come with me?"

"Does it really matter?" Ashara asked a little tersely, "I thought you would be glad to hear the news." Harry just looked at her archly. She held her chin up defiantly until she realized that he was not going to relent, "Fine, I made it clear that I had every intention of following you when you left with or without their leave. Mother threatened to have a guard posted outside my rooms," He could certainly see Larra not only threatening but following through on it, "But I pointed out that she would lose her daughter, in mind if not in body and she seemed unable to bear the thought."

She looked a little guilty, "In retrospect, it was a harsh thing to say but I wanted to stick firm to my convictions." Her eyes went glassy in thought, "I shall apologize for my words though not the reason behind them before we depart." She shook the thought from mind before continuing, "Father must have seen something in me then, because he decided that it was best to allow me to travel with you openly with your full awareness then to risk me following through more clandestine means."

"You really would have followed me regardless of their decision?" Harry questioned her.

"Of course," She said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, "I realized that you would go, despite not truly wishing to leave this place because it was the right thing to do and you wish to make something more of yourself in this world." Her violet eyes met his emerald green, "I have no desire to be parted from you for a year or more without knowing what might have befallen you."

"You will also be parted from your parents for an indeterminate amount of time," Harry knew his reasoning would fall on deaf ears, but he didn't want Ashara to regret the decision.

"So I will," She agreed without hesitation, "and I will assuredly miss them dearly at times. But my mind is set."

Harry considered pointing out the potential dangers of the journey, but he knew that she had already accepted them and decided against concerning herself with them. Mentally conceding that this thing was going to happen, and admitting that he was truly happy about it he smiled genuinely before embracing her and holding her body close to his, "I shall be truly happy for your company." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and felt her relax deeply into his chest, "Just don't get into any trouble," He finished teasingly.

She pulled away with a light scoff, a mischievous glint in her eyes and a matching smile on her full lips, "Please Harry, if either of us will find ourselves in trouble, it will be you. Fortunately for us, you simply have a way of finding your way through such situations. I believe you often say you have the worst sort of good luck." He was about to reply when without warning Ashara leaned up onto her toes and kissed him, not the friendly if affectionate kisses they would at times lay on one another's cheeks or temples. No, there was a hint of need, want, in this kiss and a heat that he had never experienced before. She fell back to her heels and he followed leaning down to make sure they didn't break contact. He felt a shiver at the slight moan that rumbled from her throat just before they finally pulled apart. _Well that was certainly nothing like the disappointment Harry suffered on that 'date' with Cho Chang._

Her cheeks were slightly flushed, and eyes hooded as she smiled radiantly up at him. _She has never looked quite so beautiful._ She ran her fingers idly through the stitching of the sigil on his chest, "I would say that is the best answer I can give as to my insistence on joining you on your journey." He watched her walk away, his gaze falling to the swing of her hips. That lasted until he felt another pair of eyes on him and looked up to see Arthur looking at him through narrow eyes. _That look could cut through steel. Arthur may be my brother in arms, but he would kill me should I do or allow something to happen to Ashara._ They shared a long look, neither flinching until an understanding passed between them. Harry couldn't help the thought that crossed his mind then. _Yes, I certainly have the worst sort of good luck._

* * *

A week passed before a large merchant vessel arrived in Starfall on its way back from Lannisport, headed to Myr. Unwilling to wait what could be many months before a ship bound for Volantis arrived, Harry bought passage for himself and Ashara in their own small cabins on the ship, with the agreement that their prisoner would be kept chained in the hold away from all of the sailors. They would be bringing their horses as well. It cost a small sum given the significant amount he earned by winning the melee in Lannisport.

Nesio also booked passage, unworried about a cabin and instead agreeing to sleep in the hold with the sailors. Harry was surprised when the former slave approached him, head bowed and told him, "Your father is a man worth remembering, a man who deserved a better death. I would remain with you as you search for the hand that willed his end." Harry wouldn't refuse skilled help when offered.

The sun hardly rose above the horizon when they arrived down at the docks near Starfall to board the ship. Ulric remained in the castle, having said his parting words to the pair among the dead the week prior, while Arlan could not be moved from his bed or his wife.

As Harry came back to the dock after putting their things in their respective cabins, Lily and Larra stood together nearby while Arthur said a quiet farewell to his sister. The Sword of the Morning broke the hug with the younger Dayne and came to Harry, "I know you require no warnings, so I shall be brief. Good fortune my friend, and ensure that the two of you return unharmed." He offered his hand to Harry which was taken. "I shall tell Rhaegar of your decision though not the exact nature of your journey." There was a hint of sadness in Arthur's indigo eyes. _Even a great knight can be saddened to find that he is going to be absent the company of those closest to him._

Larra approached him then, "Remember that she intends to go with you wherever you tread." She said sincerely, "Respect it in the spirit it is given." He nodded solemnly and she moved off to have words with Ashara.

His mother hugged him tightly, her eyes wet, "It seems to me that I am losing my son now." She released him and held him at arm's length, "Though I have every confidence that you shall return home, safe and whole." He could hear the hint of pain in her voice even if she hid it well, "Make sure you return safe and whole." It was almost desperate, as though she could not bear another loss.

"I will, mum" He assured her, even if he knew that there was no way that he could guarantee such a thing, "And I will have justice for father as well." She smiled wetly at that before turning away and joining Larra. The pair walked away from the dock and joined Arthur where he waited nearby. Harry looked to Ashara and saw a few stray tears falling across her cheeks. She didn't make to wipe them away as he grabbed her hand and led her onto the ship's deck.

After the gangplank was pulled back in and the sails were unfurled, Ashara and Harrion stood side by side, waving to the fleeting images of their loved ones. It was a bittersweet departure for Harry. There was a sense of melancholy coming over him not knowing how long until he might see his mother again but joy at Ashara's company, and a hardened conviction toward the true purpose behind his journey.

* * *

AN: So there's the new chapter. Bit of sadness, bit of happiness, some fluffy stuff and an interrogation.

Last chapter was a lot of Harry and Arthur, this one was a lot of Harry and Ashara. I honestly didn't decide whether or not she would go with him until I wrote the scene.

Next chapter they will see a little bit of Oberyn,they get to Volantis, and find the man who hired his father's killer.


	8. Chapter 8

AN: Thank you as always for the reviews, I truly appreciate them. As for the guest reviews...

coldblue: 1) Yes 2) He'll visit some of them 3) People who have never met the Faceless Men have still heard of them 4)No, and the reason will be explained later 5)Yes 6) I said they would see him, not that I would give his POV 7) No 8) Possibly 9) Possible but not probable 10) Harry will retain his anonymity regarding magic for now.

* * *

The Free City of Myr sat where the Sea of Myrth met one of the great Valyrian dragonroads. It sprawled across the landscape as ships came into its docks. In its center, stretching into the sky, were the palaces of the powerful and wealthy of the city; the Magisters and merchants who controlled it. Grey walls surrounded it on three sides with the sea to the west. Outside of those high walls, from its main gate to the east and down and along the southern walls, tents could be seen. They were tents of sell-sword companies currently in the service of Myr as they anticipated conflict with Lys. _Myr, Tyrosh and Lys always seem to be having some skirmish over the Disputed Lands, but none of them are willing to sacrifice their own citizens_

Their ship came into the city's port in the midmorning three weeks and three days after they departed from Starfall. They were fortunate, only facing mild storms while in the Narrow Sea, and two days of relatively calm winds that slowed them through the Stepstones. _But overall, we made good time._

Harry, Ashara, and Nesio walked along the dock, pulling at the reins of their horses. Their prisoner lay bound and gagged on the back of Harry's horse.

Looking along the docks of the city, Harry couldn't help but notice the multitude of temples and shrines that sat along the waterfront. Unlike the Seven Kingdoms, where only the Seven and Old God's were widely worshipped or Qohor where they worship only the Black Goat, the Myrish did not have any established religion.

Both Harry and Ashara wore long heavy cloaks with the hoods pulled up to conceal their faces. In truth, he had little concern regarding his own well-being in this place. _But Ashara is a great beauty, and young women are known to go missing in slave cities._ His eyes fixated on the first bronze slave collar he saw; it was fastened tightly around the neck of one of the dockworkers as he steadily removed cargo from the ship. _I don't know what is worse, the collar these slaves are forced to wear or the rags that signified Dobby's enslavement._ Harry kept Ashara just in front of him as they pushed through the docks onto the stone streets of the city.

"Harry," Ashara grabbed his attention, as she turned her head back to look at him, "there's an inn just there."

He didn't even need to turn to look to know what sort of building he would find, but he did anyway. The inn Ashara pointed out was a hole-in-the-wall sort of place called the Old Sails, only in bastardized Valyrian, which clearly served a very specific sort of clientele. _We'll find nothing their but drunken sailors and the whores who know how to pull every one of their coppers from them._

Perfectly willing to spend more on better accommodations or even use the tent he had packed outside of the walls of the city, Harry responded, "No, definitely not Ash."

"If we stay closer to the docks, where all of the sailors stay, it will be that much easier to find a ship headed for Volantis." She pointed out off-handedly.

"You're right it would," Harry agreed, "but we aren't staying in an inn like that." _Arthur would drive Dawn right through my back if he found out we stayed in such a place when it isn't absolutely necessary._

"I know of an inn further in the city," Nesio spoke up, his deep timber carrying through the hustle and bustle of the merchants near the dock, "where ship captains tend to stay. Assuming that you wish to sail to Volantis." In truth, Harry had yet to decide what they would do. While sailing might be faster, the autumn seas could be treacherous and he doubted that the luck they had on their journey to Myr would last should they take another ship. _Not to mention the pirates that make a living around the Stepstones But if we travel by horse we risk encountering one of the Dothraki hordes._

Nesio led them as they made their way along that street; they passed homes, shops, and a brothel or two. As the Myrish were famous for their beautiful tapestries and lacework, they saw more than one such shop. But to Harry's mind, the finest of the shops they passed was a producer and purveyor of Myrish eyes, long collapsible brass tubes with lenses at each end designed to allow men to see a far greater distance.

As they drew further away from the docks one particular language became dominant, the Myrish brand of Bastard Valyrian. Harry thanked Larra for the years she spent diligently drilling the words of the Freehold into his head. While he had never taken to it with the same talent as Ashara, he knew enough to understand the language and speak it. _Even if my accent is rather atrocious._

At first, Harry found it quite odd that no one even batted an eye, much less questioned him regarding the bound man on the back of his horse but then he watched, genuinely disturbed, as a slave was beaten on the street with a whip by his master for dropping a jug full of wine. _I suppose they all must think I'm punishing one of my own slaves._ The thought left a sour taste in his mouth.

They came to a place where two roads met within the city. It opened up there to a large market where farmers and butchers, and all other manner of merchant sold their goods. At the corner sat the inn that Nesio knew. Tying off their horses, the trio went inside. Within, every table seemed to be clambering with people. There was music being played and drinks being delivered by a short girl, no more than ten years old. _What else can someone expect when they walk into an inn? It doesn't seem to matter where you go, it is always the same thing._ Sitting at one of the tables was a man and woman, each of whom appeared to be ship captains playing a knife game. _Hopefully they're good enough that it doesn't end bloody._

The proprietor of the establishment stood behind a bar, filling two cups with Arbor gold. He was of middling height some thirty years of age with a soft looking pot-belly. He had dark hair that was just beginning to grey, and olive skin. _The Myrish do look quite a bit like the salty Dornishman._ He eyed the three of them.

"We're looking for rooms," Harry told him without preamble.

He looked first to Harry and then Nesio, paying close attention to the weapons on their person, before briefly glancing at Ashara. Surprisingly, the innkeep responded in the common tongue, though it had a heavy Myrish accent, "I'm full up."

Looking around the room, Harry found it believable, but he had a feeling the man thought they would be trouble and just didn't want their business, "Perhaps you might be able to direct us somewhere else then?"

The man shrugged, "You'll find your fair share of hovels down by the docks that can put you up for a night or more." Slightly frustrated at the innkeepers blithe responses Harry turned to look at Nesio, but found no help coming.

"We hear you are popular with ship captains," Ashara interjected, pulling her hood down for the first time, "And we are in need of a ship to Volantis. If you can't provide us with lodging at least allow us to speak to your patrons."

Now able to see her face, the man was far more interested in the young woman in front of him. When he noticed the look on Harry's face as he stared unabashedly, he broke from his distraction coughing slightly, "You are free to speak to whomever you please, but start anything and you'll be thrown straight out."

Ashara just nodded and turned away from the man without another word. Nesio and Harry both watched as she went up to the nearest man and started talking to him. His former trainer seemed amused as he told Harry, "I'm going to go water the horses and our… passenger."

Harry nodded as he made his way to sit beside Ashara. The captain she was speaking to was a burly man with a wind burnt face and hands that looked as though they'd worked the rigging before he became a captain. He spoke the common tongue with an accent Harry didn't recognize, "Sorry girl, but I'm headed north to Pentos." The man seemed to be entirely disinterested by her beauty, watching Harry as he sat down beside her.

Looking around at the other gathered men and few women, Harry questioned the captain in front of him, "Do you know of any ship that might be headed to Volantis?"

The burly captain tilted his head looking around to his fellow patrons, "None that I know of," He leaned in closer, speaking more softly, "You'll find few Myrish ships headed that direction given the current situation with Lys. Perhaps you might be lucky and find a Volantene heading home, but I know of no one." He shrugged disinterestedly, "They have always done much of their trade with the cities of Slaver's Bay." He took a deep pull from his mug of ale, and burped rather loudly causing Ashara to wrinkle her nose slightly, "But if you wish to know for certain whether there is any captain headed for Volantis willing to take you on, you would need to ask around for yourselves but as far as this inn goes, it would be in vain."

Ashara turned to look at Harry, a silent question in her eyes. _It will be a longer journey by boat, and a few days delay and it would be faster just to ride._ He leaned close so that only she would hear him, "I wasn't willing to wait in Starfall for a ship to Volantis, and there is no telling how long we would wait here. We both know that there are dangers on either path, but I say we take the horses and make our way to Selhorys. There will certainly be a river ship bound for Volantis from there."

She bit her bottom lip briefly in thought before smiling slightly at him, "We should depart then." Harry returned the look before making to stand. The captain's voice grabbed his attention though, "When you and your other companion entered, I admit I assumed you were here to sell your swords." He looked to the hilts of Harry's weapons, "The Magisters are always looking for more meat for their hired armies." _And he probably thought that Ashara was a bed slave._

"Well you thought wrong captain," Harry replied a little tersely. As they both stood to leave, curiosity got the better of him though, "Which sell-sword companies camp outside of the city?"

"The Myrish managed to hire the Golden Company, the Second Sons, a few of the smaller ones as well." _If there is any sellsword company I might belong with, at least on reputation alone, it would be the Golden Company._ The laughed loudly then, startling Harry, "The Golden Company alone would be enough to make the Lyseni question any attacks but now they shall simply remain on their little island with their tails between their legs, saying all of the usual tripe that comes out between the three cities but not actually doing anything."

"Right," Ashara said slowly, not the least bit interested in his little rant, "Thank you for what help you were able to offer." The captain grunted his recognition before returning his attention to the drink in front of him.

The pair exited the inn, Harry dropping a single copper in front of the innkeeper as he left.

He could see that Ashara was amused as she pulled her hood back up, "Bit irritated with the innkeeper?"

He chuckled slightly, "Well, he wasn't nearly as helpful as he could have been, but I figured for 'letting' us speak with his patrons', he deserved some sort of recompense."

"Of course," She replied deadpan, before they both laughed slightly. They came to stand by the horses, she reached out a hand and ran it through her mare's mane, "There is plenty of daylight left, we could make a good start on traveling to Selhorys."

Nesio popped up from where he had been kneeling beside his own horse, "No luck finding a ship then?" The former pit fighter sounded deeply relieved by the news. They had learned that he wasn't overly fond of ships. The confined spaces and creaking timbers brought back wretched memories of the times when first he was taken from the Basilisk Isles, or held beneath the stands preparing for death in the great arena of Meereen.

"No ship, at least for now," Harry told him, "Once we reach Selhorys that could very well change though."

He smiled toothily, the vivid white of his teeth contrasting against the darkness of his skin, "The less time spent on a ship the better in my opinion."

"We'll need more provisions if we intend to make our way east to the Rhoyne on horseback though," Harry pointed out. The others agreed and the three of them set about buying the needed goods. Should they have an easy time of it Harry figured the five-hundred mile journey could be made in ten days. _But should we need to make detours to avoid any dangerous peoples out in the disputed lands it could take more than two weeks._ They bought salted meats and filled a large barrel of water that was then tied to the side of Nesio's big grey packhorse.

In his shopping, Harry found a quiver made from the skin of a basilisk. _Well Ashara's name day will probably come and go while we're on the road, and I have nothing for her._ The lot of it cost Harry three golden dragons, but certainly didn't do much to lighten the heavy purse that he had won in Lannisport.

It was just after midday as they walked through the city gates along the smooth dragonroad made by the Valyrians centuries before. There was little traffic along the road as they departed, just a few farmers returning with their mostly empty carts back to their homes. The sellsword tents sat along the roadside and against the walls of the city. The sounds of drunken revelry and more sordid affairs emanated from within.

There was one woman among the Company's tents that caught his attention, she wore a deep blue dress, and had the Valyrian appearance to her. She was taller than the average woman, and walked with a confident stride. Harry noticed her as she exited a large tent with heads gilded in gold just outside its flap; the tent of Golden Company's current commanders. _She's almost certainly not one of the whores from the city, bought by the men for their pleasure but coming from the commander's tent. Perhaps she is Lyseni and trying to convince them to abandon their current contract._

His attention turned away from the woman as he heard Ashara make a soft noise of surprise. She stared slightly awestruck as one of the Golden Company's many elephants strode across the road, one of their brightly armored men sitting atop its neck. Harry found himself rather unimpressed, and instead focused on the light in Ash's eyes. _Then again, compared to the Hungarian Horntail that elephant is rather… well tiny._ Noticing that he was looking at her, she turned and smiled at him.

"Nesio," A man's voice called out as they neared the area occupied by the Second Sons, a voice with a distinctly Dornish accent. All three of them turned to see Oberyn Martell, whose eyes widened when he recognized Harry and Ashara underneath their hoods before narrowing as he noticed the body tied on the back of Harry's horse, "I have not seen you in years my friend," He gestured for all three of them to follow, "Come we must share a drink before you are on your way."

Knowing that it would seem odd should they refuse to join him, they followed the Dornish prince through the throng of tents until they reached his own. Given his lineage and the wealth to his name, Oberyn's tent was considerably larger than those around it.

As they entered it was hard not to notice that on a bed within, there were two scantily clad women and one entirely naked man. _Well there have always been rumors regarding Oberyn's proclivities, and this is compelling evidence to believe it._

Oberyn poured four cups of Dornish red and began handing them to his guests, paying the other occupants of the room little mind. Nesio refused while Harry and Ashara just took tiny sips from the offered drinks, "So tell me, what brings you to Essos my friends?"

"I have always been fascinated by the Free Cities," Ashara supplied evenly, "and as I am a woman grown, my father agreed to let me travel." She rested a hand on Harry's arm, "provided that I bring some protection to ensure my safety."

"Truly, I would not expect Lord Dayne to be so frivolous with his young, and only, daughter." Oberyn looked far from convinced by Ashara's story but she was unfazed.

"You have been too long away from Dorne, my Lord," She said sweetly, "I am not my father's only daughter any longer. My sister, Allyria, was born just a few short months ago."

"My congratulations to your parents, my Lady," Oberyn said tilting his goblet, "though, it seems strange that your father would disregard your safety simply because he has a second daughter. He has left you in the care of two men, one of whom is a mere squire." Harry could hear the teasing in his friend's voice, even if he was clearly skeptical of Ashara's story.

"Actually," Harry interjected sharply, "Lord Ulric left Ashara in the care of two men, one of whom is a knight." Oberyn raised one quizzical eyebrow, "Arthur anointed me after my victory in the recent tourney at Lannisport."

A brief look of irritation crossed the prince's face as he recalled his last visit to the Westerlands, but it was quickly replaced as that roguish smile graced his lips, "My congratulations to you, Ser Harry. We must celebrate." He cast a backward glance at the other occupants of the room, a lascivious look in his eye, his implications obvious.

"A **generous** offer," Ashara commented tightly, "but we are bound for Volantis and have plans to leave the city without delay."

Fully aware that he had struck a nerve, Oberyn cast a quick glance between the two of them, "Perhaps another time then," He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "Volantis? I have a newborn daughter in Volantis." He commented idly, "It is just as beautiful as it dangerous, particularly for a young woman of your beauty. What business do you have there?"

"No particular business," Harry answered a little too quickly, "as Ashara told you, she simply wishes to visit the Free Cities."

"Yet you are in Myr and have spent barely a day within its fine walls," _No doubt he has some informants in the city to tell him of arrivals from the Seven Kingdoms._ The smile fell from his lips, "I'll ask again, what business do you have in Volantis?"

Ashara did not take kindly to his demanding demeanor, "It was my desire to begin in the First Daughter. I have left the wonders of Myr until such a time as we return here."

"Hmm, an interesting story, my Lady," He folded his arms across his chest, "Though that does little to explain the man tied to your horses."

"He is my prisoner," Nesio spoke up for the first time, "a man I know to have a bounty on his head."

"And you happened upon him where?" Oberyn asked, slightly caught off guard by the former slave's declaration.

"Luck," Nesio answered succinctly.

Oberyn just snorted, "Of course, how fortunate for you." He looked pensively between them for a long moment, "Fine, keep your secrets whatever they might be, all the gods know that I have my own. I simply do not wish to see my friends come to harm and I can't imagine what could have driven you to venture so far from home." He approached them then, an open and warm smile on his face. He gave Ashara a hug, offered his hand to Harry, and then leant upward and kissed Nesio on the cheek much to his chagrin. Oberyn avoided the smack that was aimed at his head.

"You are not a prince here," Nesio warned which only won him laughter.

Oberyn waved away the prostitutes on the bed, before he sat down at the table, offering the fare there to them, "Apologies for my rather rude welcoming, but I was truly shocked by your presence here. That you are lying about your purpose only made me all the more curious."

"No need for apologies," Harry said cordially, though Ashara seemed to disagree slightly, "but our business is our own, and we really must be on our way."

"You could spare an hour, surely," Oberyn almost pleaded, "We must share stories, and it has been more than a year since last we shared even a raven."

"I believe that would be your fault," Ashara told him lightly, "You have busied yourself with war and whores forgetting to contact your friends… and your family from what Elia tells me." Oberyn paled slightly as he realized the truth of her words. All three of them laughed at his discomfort.

"Yes," Oberyn said after taking a long pull of wine, "I am sure that my sister shall forgive my distractions though." He didn't even sound entirely convinced himself and Ashara just gave him a wicked little smirk that indicated his false hope.

"Where have you been since departing Oldtown?" Harry questioned, pulling Oberyn away from that admittedly frightening thought. _Elia can be rather dangerous in her own right, and she knows the best ways to make him suffer._

"It feels like everywhere sometimes," Oberyn said wistfully, "I have gone as far east as Qarth and sat with the Purebloods of the city, spoke with the undying and, learned some things... of an esoteric nature." His eyes darkened as he remembered something but it cleared quickly, "On my journey back east I avoided Slaver's Bay and considered braving Old Valyria. But the Doom still rules there and I wished to see more of the world before I risked such a thing. So, I made my way to Volantis."

"And you met a truly beautiful woman, whom you bedded," Harry interjected knowingly, "And she has provided you with your second child." His first was Obara, a girl he fathered on an Oldtown whore when studying at the Citadel.

"Correct," Oberyn replied unrepentantly, "Nymeria is my daughter's name; her mother is one of the Old Blood of the city." He shook his head slightly, "But I grew bored of simply seeing the sights and heard of a conflict in the Disputed Lands." He chuckled slightly, "Not this one though, about a year ago it was between the Tyroshi and Lyseni. I took up with the Second Sons at that time." His face soured, "I chaffed under their commands though, and have since started my own company."

Harry blinked owlishly at that for a moment, before barking out a laugh, "Why does it not surprise me that you struggled with someone else's command?"

Oberyn just shrugged, "It shouldn't. But all we do now is sit outside of the city, uselessly."

"A ship captain told us that Lys will not attack with the forces Myr has amassed," Ashara supplied.

"It is true," Oberyn said with a huff, "But the Lyseni will try to win over the Second Sons so they might still have their skirmishes."

"If you don't mind my saying," Ashara said hesitantly, "you seem rather disinterested with the whole thing."

He smiled a little sadly, "You are right. While I have seen a great deal of this world now, and I hope to see more of it in time, there comes a time when every man longs for home."

"Will your brother let you return?" She questioned.

"I hope to receive an answer to that very question in the coming days," Oberyn said cheerily, "But I believe he shall. Five years should be enough to appease the Yronwoods."

The friends shared stories for some time before Nesio nudged both of them and gestured with his head toward the tent flap. _He is right, we ought to be going._

As they mounted their horses, Oberyn bid them a final farewell, "Whatever your purpose in Volantis, I wish you the best of luck."

As their horses cantered along the dragonroad, Ashara turned to Harry, "Did you consider telling Oberyn the truth?"

"Briefly," Harry admitted as the sun started to fall closer to the horizon, "But he would have brought undue attention to us. And he is known in Volantis." He was uncertain though, "Though he could have been helpful I am sure."

Ashara gave a small smile and reached a hand up to run across the nape of his neck, "He might have, but I think you made a wise decision. Besides, he wishes to travel west not east."

* * *

Their little camp sat at the bottom of a stone crag beside a small creek. A clear sky allowed the light of the moon to illuminate the lush, hilly green expanse of the disputed lands to the west while the land further east evened out into dry plains. They'd been traveling for six days and the journey had gone unimpeded as of yet.

Harry woke abruptly to the sight of the tan canvas of his tent above him. Delicate hands shoved forcefully at his shoulder. He looked blurrily to his left to find a mass of dark hair staring back at him. He rubbed at his eyes and his vision cleared to find Ashara looking at him, concern evident in her eyes.

Slightly alarmed, he sat up, "Ash, what's wrong?" That is what he intended to say but nothing came out. _Oh bollocks, my silencing charm._ He subtly cast the counter charm and asked the question again.

"I was going to ask you the same thing," She said worriedly, "I just finished my watch of the camp for the night and woke Nesio." She leaned forward and looked him closely in the eye, "You were having a restless sleep, and it looked as though you were writhing in pain but you weren't making any noise."

She wiped her hand along a thin sheen of sweat that had formed on his brow, "I tried to wake you but it didn't seem to work at first. Were you having a nightmare?"

Harry didn't truly know what to say, "Um, no it wasn't a nightmare, just an uncomfortable dream." He mumbled the last more to himself but Ashara heard him.

"What was uncomfortable about it?" She sat herself directly beside him and rested her head on his bare shoulder.

 _Well it was the first time that Potter ever actually experienced apparition._ Though, like a distance echo Harrion felt as though his own body had experienced that awful squeezing sensation as before. _Mother and Father always suspected that it was my magic that saved us from the flooding of Castamere, perhaps my magic responded with something it already understood._ "There was a squeezing, in my chest, in my head, my whole body really." He explained as best he could without telling her the outright truth.

"Sounds like some kind of nightmare," Ashara said thoughtfully, "Almost as though you were drowning."

"Perhaps," Harry said guardedly, "But I only remember darkness and that squeezing."

"Right," Ashara said slowly. She kissed his cheek, just at the corner of his lips before standing and making her way toward the flap of his small tent, "I apologize for waking you." As she glanced back at him before exiting, her eyes seemed to harden with conviction and she squared her shoulder, "You are allowed your secrets, same as I am, but I don't appreciate being blatantly lied to."

Harry made to speak but she raised her hand for silence, "People do not twist and turn without even a rustling of the sheets beneath them. They do not speak without any voice." She looked him in the eye, and continued softly, "If you are reluctant to tell me something for fear of how I might react, don't be."

Before he had the opportunity to speak, she pulled back the flap and left the tent. _Perhaps it would be for the best if I simply tell her, she handled my speaking to snakes without any issue or uncomfortable questions, why should this be any different? We are no longer children and she knows how to keep things to herself._ It seemed a reasonable thing to do, even if it could have unforeseen consequences. _Should things continue as they have, she will find out eventually anyway._

As he silently argued the pros and cons of finally revealing the full extent of the second life he experienced in dreams and the magic that seemed to go with it, Nesio stuck his head into the tent and whispered urgently, "Come, we have a problem." Assuming that perhaps their prisoner had escaped, he rushed out of the tent, not even bothering with a shirt, only to find that the man remained bound and sleeping where he had been at the end of Harry's watch. Ashara stood beside Nesio, her bow in hand looking behind them.

"What is it? He asked a little loudly. Nesio placed his hand over Harry's mouth, silencing him, before pointing up the hill to where seven horsemen sat atop the crest looking east toward the disputed land. As the pair of them watched the seven horsemen were joined by more, and then yet more until they numbered dozens. In the pale moonlight, Harry could just make out their dark hair and leather armor. _And their long braids falling down their backs._ They were Dothraki, and there was no telling how many of them would follow behind those already on the hill. _They must be making for Myr or Tyrosh to demand tribute, which means it is a horde of some size._

"They haven't noticed us yet," Nesio told him softly, "But if they do…" He left the comment hanging. _If they find us, there is no way that we will be able to hold off their number and Nesio and I will die painfully. They'll take Ash as a slave and she will be raped and abused… and her family will never know what became of her._ There was a chance that they would remain undetected, but should the horses make a noise or one of the Dothraki come to the edge of the stone crag they were sure to come and investigate.

"We must hope that they won't see us," Ashara whispered and he could hear the touch of fear in her voice. _She knows what might happen._ The very thought made his blood quicken in his veins, and then their prisoner started to stir… very loudly as he noticed the men upon the hill. Not even concerned for the consequences, Harry extended his hand and cast a silencing charm. Their prisoner's screams died in his throat, and Nesio and Ashara just stared at Harry wide-eyed.

Unwilling to leave things to chance, Harry faced the creek beside their encampment and stepped to the very edge of the water. The water extended up and out of its home seemingly, expanding as it did so until the area from around their tents to where their horses sat unworried about their current predicament.

He stared up as the horse lords made their way down the side of the hill and further east, a number of them looked back in the direction of the crag, even as Harry continued to hold his watery shroud. Never having hidden more than his own person before, Harry struggled against the strain of the spell as the thud of thousands of horses galloping along soft ground went on for many minutes. _I was right; there is an entire horde on the other side of that hill._

Finally, after what felt a great deal longer to Harry than it really was, there was silence again in their little camp by the crag. For safety, Harry waited a few moments longer before finally returning the water back to its creek. As Harry noticed the bewildered looks on both Ashara and Nesio's face, he felt heady rush that left him staggering. As he sat down beside the water, he felt a dull ache in his bones but nothing any worse than what he experienced after a long day's training. But he was far from weary, there was adrenaline in his veins and despite the ache he was now very much awake and had a feeling he would be for some time.

"Nesio," He said suddenly, causing the dark-skinned man to jump slightly, "I think I can take the watch for a while if you would like."

"Yes," he laughed a little uncertainly, "I think that might be for the best." Before Nesio made for his own tent, he stopped at Harry's side and rested one of his large hands on his shoulder, "I don't know what you just did or how you did it but I am glad for it." Harry gave the tall man a small smile before he left the pair alone.

Ashara was looking at him with a slight tilt of her head, a light of curiosity obvious in her eyes. She stepped closer so that they were less than an arm lengths away, "Well, I would say that was a bit more impressive than speaking to snakes." There was a teasing upturn to her lips.

Harry chuckled, "I suppose it was."

There was a distinctly awkward silence between them then, something that rarely happened. She seemed to by trying to figure out what to say next. _Though, if it is between keeping us safe and an awkward silence it will always be the simplest of decisions._

"So," Ashara said hesitantly, looking at their prisoner out of the corner of her eye, "I take it you did to yourself the same thing that you did to him."

Harry nodded stiffly, aware that this conversation could very easily go poorly, "Yes, I silenced him and myself earlier."

"We'll come back to that later," She said firmly, becoming more confident as she wrapped her head around what had just happened, "So I take it that you are capable of magic? Real magic? Like the things they describe the Valyrians or the Rhoynar being capable of?"

"Yes," Harry replied truthfully, knowing full well that there was no use lying at this point, "though I don't actually know any Valyrian magic." _Yet._

"That explains why you were obsessed with that book we found all those years ago," She remarked almost gleefully, happy to finally understand exactly what fascinated him about the old tome.

Harry smiled at her enthusiasm, "It does. What I just did now, that was Rhoynar magic."

"So what else can you do?" She asked him expectantly.

Harry considered this for a moment before extending his hand. Ashara lifted off the ground slowly, until she was nearly a foot in the air before he gently returned her to her feet. There was wonder in her eyes as she looked intently at his outstretched hand. He couldn't help the self-satisfied little smirk that spread across his lips, "There are other things as well, spells of significant and varied utility that allow me to do things I otherwise couldn't."

"What's it like?"

"Doing magic?" Ashara nodded, "Well it can be quite painful, particularly when first learning new magic. I have found that there is always some sort of cost involved."

"Cost?" She questioned worriedly, "What sort of cost?"

"As I said, it is pain most often," She did not like the sound of that, "but it manifests in different ways. At the moment, I feel a dull ache in my body though nothing that would leave me incapacitated." He gestured toward her, "Lifting you as I just did is the very first thing I learned. It can be difficult, and draining to move things of any considerable size, but on the whole it costs me very little compared to other magics."

"Alright," She brought her hands up to rest on his cheeks. He had to admit that she was taking this far better than he expected, "Now why do you silence yourself in your sleep?"

Her vivid violet eyes bore into his and kept him transfixed, unable to look away. _If I didn't know any better I would think that she is the one who could perform some magic._ Resigned, he took a deep breath, "I have always had rather vivid dreams. They are dreams that I do not wake from easily." He ran a hand through his hair, "Dreams that have at times caused me a significant amount of pain and have shown me terrifying things." He brought his hand down to rest on one of Ashara's as she rubbed his cheek, "To keep from being a nuisance, I silence myself with magic learned in those dreams."

She looked less than pleased with this confession but decided to let it go, "You learn magic in these dreams?"

"I see," He considered how to word it, "another life. One lived in a world where magic is not a withering memory, but done by many in secret as a separate part of the world." He grabbed her hands and pulled them down, "I strongly believe that I am seeing a life I have lived before, but I cannot say with certainty."

She hummed seemingly to herself, "So you see another life." She said nonchalantly, not wanting to fixate on that point, "What could you possibly have seen that would cause you to silence yourself?"

"A massive three-headed hound," Harry started before continuing in a rush, "A snake sixty feet in length, creatures that could suck out a person's soul and cause them to relive their worst memories, a dragon, and a hideous, vile man with red serpent's eyes." Ashara's eyebrows crept ever higher toward her hairline as he spoke, "And each of these things was dead set on killing or causing serious harm to… my counterpart." _And that isn't even taking into account the giant spiders, witnessing the murder of his parents or the Dursleys._

"Oh Harry," She said softly, "you should have told someone, anyone about this."

Harry smiled sadly, "I felt it was mine to bear. That no one would have understood, let alone accept, what was happening."

Ashara laughed wetly, "Of course you thought it was yours to bear alone, I would expect nothing less." She pulled at a strand of her hair absently, "I will not pretend that I understand what you go through, how these dreams must affect you, or even the magic you can perform, but I can accept it." He grinned widely at that and she beamed up at him, "If you are willing to explain, I would gladly come to understand and perhaps then you'll not suffer it alone."

Without warning he leant forward and captured her lips with his own, lingering there trying to express in actions what he didn't feel could be said in words. It was their first proper kiss since Starfall, and still felt just… right. They lingered together, her hand going to his shoulder to hold him in place.

When they finally pulled apart he kept her close, not wanting to lose the warmth of her body, "I expected I would tell you this someday, someday soon even. But I didn't expect that you would take things this well."

She looked up at him demurely, "Even when we were children I always knew you were different. There were times when I suspected that you might be able to do more than just speak to snakes." She shrugged her slim shoulders, "And when I asked myself what I would do if that were the case, I realized it made no difference. What you are capable of doesn't change who you are in my eyes. I admit to being," she hesitated a moment, "slightly overwhelmed and a little unsettled by this revelation but I believe my acceptance will grow to understanding in time."

He leaned down and gave her one last peck on her lips, "You need to rest." She seemed reluctant but then she yawned loudly. He chuckled, while her cheeks reddened and scowl marred her pretty face. He rubbed her back before releasing her from his embrace, "I promise we shall speak about this again soon." She huffed cutely, but nodded her head and turned to leave. He followed the sway of her hips beneath the material of her shift before she entered her tent.

Pulling his gaze from her departing form, he cast a cushioning charm on the stones beneath his feet. He sat beside the creek and settled in for a few long hours of staring at the dimly lit expanse of land around them.

* * *

The city of Volantis sat at one of the four mouths of the Rhoyne, sprawling across both its eastern and western bank. On the eastern bank the Black Walls pulled the eye as they stretched some 200 feet into the air. The massive oval structure could allow for six horses to run abreast across its width and was made from dragonstone, the black fused stone that's secrets had been lost in the Doom. Behind those walls lived only those of the Old Blood; the people who could directly trace their lineage back to Old Valyria. It was said that the gods of the Freehold were still worshiped within those walls.

Jutting up into the sky very near to the Black Wall was the Temple of the Lord of Light. In Valyria's first daughter, R'hllor was the predominant god among the poor and the slaves. To Harry's eye it appeared to be at least three times the height of the Great Sept in King's Landing.

Connecting the eastern and western banks of the two cities was the Long Bridge commissioned by Triarch Vhalaso the Munificent centuries before the fall of Valyia. The road of the bridge itself was made of fused stone while its great weight was held aloft by massive stone pillars. Along its length on each side there were dozens upon dozens of shops, taverns, temples, inns, parlors and brothels. The eastern gate into the affluent, old part of the city was carved with the images of manticores, sphinxes and dragons.

After fifteen days, fortunately without any more unexpected dangers on their way to Selhorys, the trio and their baggage arrived in the city around sundown. Like most foreigners, Harry and Ashara were restricted to the western half of the city. They walked among the throng of people, going entirely unnoticed in the crowd, toward the Fishmonger's Square.

When they reached the square they paid twenty stags to a man with a horsehead tattooed on his cheek to have their horses watered, fed and held in stables near the Merchant's House. The building in question was the finest inn in all of Volantis, a monstrosity that squatted amongst the warehouses, brothels, and taverns of the waterside.

The heavy cloak on Harry's shoulder made him sweat profusely in the dense humidity and heat of the city, made all the worse from the inordinate number of people. _I've lived in Dorne for more than half my life and even to me this place seems oppressively hot_ .Ashara seemed similarly discomforted, while Nesio seemed entirely accustomed to the appalling heat. Harry reached a hand over to Ashara and cast a cooling charm; she noticed it immediately and smiled over in his direction. Harry and Nesio pulled their captive from the saddle and pushed him along toward the door of the inn.

In the center of the Fishmonger's Square, there was a priest of R'hllor. All across his cheeks, chin and forehead there were flame tattoos while the two soldiers at his side had a single flame on one cheek, marking them as servants of the Fiery Hand. _It seems like there are ten slaves for every freeman in this city._ The priest called out in High Valyrian in praise of his lord.

The three of them entered the inn's common room, a cavernous place larger in size than the great hall of Starfall. It had many dark and hidden alcoves in which the voices speaking out in a hundred different tongues could be heard as they bartered with one another. In one of the corners, guarded by two men on each side there was a woman sitting shrouded in darkness as many captains and traders waited patiently for their opportunity to speak with her. _I wonder what power she holds that so many are willing to wait for an audience with her._

Everywhere Harry looked there were more slaves, some at the beck and call of the patrons while others walked about offering wine. Having spent much of his youth under the yoke of a fickle master, Nesio stiffened as they walked through the crowd of people. They found the inns owner and purchased two rooms on the top floor of the inn, even the cheapest rooms cost Harry a dragon for the week. _Though hopefully my business will be settled by tomorrow._

They settled their things in the low-ceiling room and tied their prisoner to one of the rings upon the wall of the room. Ashara sniffed at the stale odor of the place but she did not complain of it. _They say the locks here are better than any jail, and that alone makes it worth the price and the odor._

Harry approached their prisoner and removed the gag from his mouth. The man took a deep, almost desperate breath. He coughed loudly, hoarsely before turning to glare up at Harry, "I am no use to you dead, you bastard." His voice was hoarse from disuse.

"You weren't in any danger of dying," Harry clouted him on the side of the head, hard causing him to cry out in pain, "Now I believe that it is time that we have a little talk." He tipped a glass of water into the murderer's mouth.

"Talk, right," He said irritably, "At the end of all of this, I am only going to end up dead anyway. Why should I tell you a thing?"

"Because you killed my father you piece of shit," Harry said heatedly, "And there is very little I wouldn't be willing to do to ensure your cooperation." He leaned over their captive menacingly, "So I suppose the question is whether you would like this process to be painless or if you want to beg for my mercy before the end. And who knows, perhaps if you are good I will spare your life."

There was genuine fear in the man's eyes, with a hint of hope, "What do you want to know then?"

"The persons who hired you, where are you supposed to meet them?" Harry asked.

"At a brothel on the Long Bridge at noon," he explained readily, "I am to provide a man there with a specific phrase before they will take me to see their boss."

"Right," Harry said dispassionately as he looked to Nesio and Ashara, "What do you think?"

"I think that it would be easy for him to tip off his contractor's man, and instead of being here anonymously we will have a gang after us in a city where we have no friends," Ashara told him, her lips a thin irritated line.

"Were you told to come alone?" Nesio questioned the killer. He shook his head almost frantically, though all three of them looked skeptical.

"What would be worse, we let him go alone and he betrays us or one of us goes with…" Harry paused and looked to the man questioningly, "What is your name anyway?"

"Hezza," His father's killer responded automatically.

"One of us goes with Hezza and at the very least we find out where the man who hired him resides?" Harry finished the question.

"And what if, seeing two people, the thug Hezza is meant to meet tries to kill one of us anyway?" Nesio tried to poke holes in Harry's reasoning.

Harry shrugged, "Then we kill the contact, and find ourselves in the same predicament that we're in now."

"Namely searching one of the largest and most populous cities in the world for a single man," Ashara pointed out unhelpfully. Harry glared in her direction but she only stuck her tongue out. He resisted the urge to laugh given the situation. _Now is definitely not the time to be laughing._

"Seems to me that makes the decision that much easier," Harry replied, forcefully.

"Agreed," Nesio interjected before Ashara had the chance to speak, "I have no desire to search all of Volantis for months on end."

Ashara nodded from where she sat reclined on the sunken featherbed, "I agree that this is the best course of action." Her words belayed her evident worry though.

"All there is to determine then is who shall accompany Hezza here," Nesio thumped him on the shoulder rather harder than was perfectly necessary.

"I think it only right that I should do it," Harry told his former teacher, "It is only because of me that both of you are here, and it is only right that I face the brunt of the risk."

"Harry," Ashara started heatedly, "Nesio and I made our decisions as well, and while it never would have been an option had you not discovered the unsavory nature of your father's death, we are still here by our choice. Let us continue to have that choice."

Regardless of Ashara's words, Harry had no intention of allowing her to accompany Hezza to the meeting, "All the same, I feel it would be best should I be the one to do it." Nesio had no argument, so Ashara was forced to reluctantly give her agreement. As they broke up, she gave him a brief hug before hurriedly making her way out and into the adjacent room.

Harry and Nesio shared a brief look, before the former slave laid his head down on the bed, throwing a pillow at Harry to rest on, "Don't do any of your magic to me while I sleep." He quipped before quickly falling into a restful sleep. Harry barked a laugh, glad that the man had taken the revelation well even if there had been a bit of healthy fear in him after that night at the edge of the Disputed Lands.

Laying his head down on the pillow, the cushioning charm proved useful yet again on the hard floor. That night it took Harry a long while to find sleep, and even then it was far from restful. But the dreams that consumed him were not of another life, but instead of his father's swollen body. _Tomorrow,_ he thought into the darkness _, tomorrow I will find you the justice you deserve._

The next day the sun shone clear above the city, beating down and causing a heat haze in the streets. Harry stood just beside Hezza as they made their way down the Long Bridge on foot, avoiding the palanquins and hathays of those natives and few foreigners who believed the city's custom that claimed anyone of quality didn't travel by foot. _Something tells me the dragonlords of Valyria, who they pride themselves on being descended from, didn't worry themselves over such things._

Their captive was now properly bathed and shaved, and changed out of the rags that had been forced upon him in the months since his capture at Starfall. He looked much more himself and despite the knife he knew would be driven into his kidney should he try anything untoward, he had a bit of extra lift to his gait.

"Ser Harry," Hezza whispered, though loudly enough that he may as well have spoken plainly.

"What is it?"

"I would strike a bargain with you," Hezza responded hurriedly.

"And what bargain could you have for me that would be of any interest?" Harry questioned.

Hezza looked back at him, "I could make this very difficult for you, and while the avoidance of pain might be a very good motivator, you made mention of a far better one last night. I have been nothing but agreeable since that time." Harry expected this and admitted he wasn't entirely against the deal, "Promise me my life and I assure you that nothing I do will cause your plans to fail." _Whose life do I desire more, the man who struck the blow or the one whose hand actually brought it about? And besides, he can keep his life and suffer all the same._

"Should you manage to deliver what I desire, you shall have your life." Harry agreed as they drew closer to the very center of the bridge. Hezza's shoulders seemed to relax then and Harry expected that he had just made this venture all the more likely to succeed.

A few short moments later and Harry found himself standing outside of one of the brothels along the bridge's length. Standing outside in flimsy silk dresses, dancing enticingly toward anyone who happened to pass too close, were two of the brothels girls; they had tears tattooed beneath one eye. Hezza didn't pay them any mind and entered the pleasure house. Preparing himself for the things he knew he was likely to find within, Harry followed.

The common room smelled of flowers and wine, girls and boys alike wearing little to nothing were being groped by men and women alike. The madam of the house, a slave herself from the tattoo beneath her eye, watched all with a keen eye. Even as Hezza scanned the crowd for his contact, she gestured to two guards near the door to deal with a belligerent drunkard who attempted to harm one of the girls.

Hezza moved abruptly toward a table in a corner wherein there sat a solitary man. He was dark haired with a sickly sort of paleness to his skin that almost glowed in the low light of the brothel. A woman sat on his lap, whispering words that Harry could not hear, but the man paid her little mind, instead focusing on the other patrons.

He noticed them long before they came to stand beside his table. The man stared up at Hezza who cleared his throat nervously, "My dagger found the star's guard."

The man looked between them and smiled toothily, it was slightly disturbing on his thin, gaunt face, "I'm sure the boss will be glad to hear it." He gestured with his head towards Harry, "Who is he?" He was clearly a native Westerosi.

"A member of the Dayne household guard who didn't care for his master-at-arms," Hezza explained quickly, before Harry had the chance to speak for himself, "Not the brightest lad mind you, but he's good with a sword and didn't have any reason to stay in Westeros, so he joined up on the ship with me." Slightly surprised at the rather convincing lie, Harry offered the contact a stupid grunt in recognition of those words.

The man glanced at the two swords at his hip, "Hmm, perhaps the boss might be able to make some use of him then," He stood and suddenly there were two other men standing beside Harry and Hezza each of them carrying a sack, "You know how it is Hezza." They both waited patiently as the men placed those bags over their heads and tied their hands in front of them.

As darkness overtook his vision Harry paid close attention as they were lead out of the brothel and west along the bridge. _Hopefully Nesio and Ashara are still close behind._ They were forced through the crowds of people with less respect than some of the slaves in the streets. The three thugs all laughed uproariously when Harry fell rather violently on his face as they came to a set of steps. He could feel the blood dripping from his nose because of the impact. _I'm going to enjoy killing them._

Time became relative in the darkness, but after what felt like nearly an hour, he knew they were likely drawing near to their destination. They turned from the pathway and the ground beneath his feet changed from the solid stone of the city's streets to uneven mud of the poorest districts. He could hear beggars calling out to them as they passed, asking anyone for a mere pittance.

There was a jangling of keys when they finally came to a stop, and one of the thugs made to take the swords from his hips, "Won't be needing these." He told Harry when he moved to stop him. Knowing it was best to let things play out for a moment, he simply let the thug remove his swords from their sheaths. It was as he heard the lock come open on the door that it happened.

The dull thud of an arrow piercing through the soft tissue of a man's chest emanated from just to his left; thankfully the man didn't cry out or draw any attention. Reacting on instinct alone, Harry grabbed for his dagger still in its sheath, turned it in his hand and brought it straight up into the thug who took his swords. He heard the squelch of blood before feeling the heat of it on his bared hands as it seeped down the length of the blade and down to his hand.

He ripped the bag of his head in time to see Hezza's contact coming at him with a knife of his own, "You little c…" The words died in his throat as he looked down to see an arrow sticking out of his chest, he made to scream but Nesio came up then and cut deep into the gaunt man's neck severing the neck past the spinal cord and nearly taking it off his body.

Ashara walked up with her bow strapped across her back and her Valyrian steel dagger out, "When we saw them taking your swords we thought it would be best to intervene." She pulled her arrows from the two dead men and returned them to the quiver Harry gifted her.

"Understandable, thank you," He said gratefully, "But I wouldn't have been completely helpless without them."

"Yes, I know that," She said rolling her eyes, though there was a slight upturn of her lips, "But we also didn't want you going in there alone."

He hummed his agreement as he finally took in their surroundings. Far from the fine stone buildings in the center of the city, much less the affluence of the eastern bank, they were in a deserted side street, surrounded by wooden warehouses and hovels some of which were dilapidated to the point of collapsing at their foundations.

"Hezza," His voice caused the man to jump nervously, "do you know your way through this warehouse?"

He nodded jerkily, "The first time I came here they took the bag off once we were inside."

"Good," Nesio said as he cut the man's bindings, "You will lead the way then." Hezza didn't look pleased about this declaration but knew better than to argue.

They followed Hezza as he entered the dimly lit confines of the warehouse. It seemed to be a maze of barrels and crates and as they drew further into the building, they could hear the faint murmur of voices from within, "Paenymion paid us a handsome sum to make sure he sits as Triarch after the elections next month, make sure that it happens." Were the first clear words that Harry heard as the building opened up on the other side of a stack of barrels. "And if anybody can deal with Vogarro's whore, I'll pay 'em a hundred golden dragons and buy 'em a pleasure slave from Lys. Her storehouses would be well worth the cost."

"Right Terrence," came the reply, "we'll get it done." Harry didn't know any Terrence and he doubted that his father had either. _Who in the seven hells is this and why did he concern himself with my father?_

He felt a pull on the sleeve of his shirt and found Ashara gesturing behind them to a set of stairs that led up to the upper portion of the warehouse. Harry shook his head, but she gave him a pointed look before leaning in to whisper in his ear, "I will be a much greater help from above. If something happens it happens but you can't stop me from going up there." Harry scowled but reluctantly nodded his head.

She kissed his cheek before turning and padding up the set of stairs, the barest of creaks coming from her soft footfalls. When she reached the top she turned the corner and was out of sight.

"We have no idea how many might be milling about in there," Nesio pointed out.

"True," Harry agreed, frowning, "But it was either this or letting me come in here alone to try and scout it out, and there is no telling how that might have gone."

"Well," Nesio said smiling that wide, infectious smile that only appeared rarely, "we'll make do. And if we don't, try to die well."

Harry snorted, "I'd rather they die and I really don't care if they do it well."

The three of them straightened then and came around the side of the barrels that hid them from view into the main storeroom of the warehouse. It was roughly fifty feet across and had some fifteen people milling about. Some of them drank while half of them were standing over two others as they played a game of some sorts; one of the men appeared to be taking bets. At the far end, sitting at a table counting gold and silver before letting it fall with a clink through his fingers, who Harry figured to be the boss of this gang.

Terrence was a man of at least half way to forty, shaved bald. He had wide set brown eyes with a hint of gold in his irises. His nose looked as though it had been beaten in one to many times giving it a squashed appearance. He had a wide mouth and loose skin at the jowls. _Looks a bit like a toad._ He had light skin though not sickly so like the dead man who brought them there. He wore fine silks and clearly thought himself quite the important man. As the toad's eyes snapped to them, Harry noticed movement along the upper floor of the warehouse just across from him. _She was right. She does have a good line of sight from up there._

"Hezza!" Terrence called loudly extending his arms in greeting but looking between the three of them suspiciously, "I thought you migh' be dead, so it's good to see ye'?" He came to stand directly in front of them, "You fulfill the task I set you?" He spoke to Hezza but he was looking rather intently at Harry.

"I did," Their prisoner responded with slight stutter.

He turned to look at Hezza then and grinned, though it was almost a leer, "Good, and did the bastard suffer?"

"I had to make it quick," Hezza replied uncomfortably.

"What a shame," Terrence said dully, "Now who the 'ell are these two? And where is Mikkle?"

"These two fine gentlemen assisted me in the task," Hezza said with more confidence than he had before, "And Mikkle left us at the door, said something about getting back to the pleasure house. Seemed to have found himself a whore he fancied."

Terrence turned away from them then, and walked toward the table behind him, "Well if all three of ye' took part in the murder then it's only fair that all three of ye' receive the reward. What was the agreed upon price, 500 dragons?" Nesio and Harry shared a glance as they both felt the same thing, movement from behind them. They both reached for their swords and unsheathed them, the _shlick_ of the metal dragging out of its home ringing out in the high ceiling storeroom.

But they didn't strike yet, instead pivoting to see that the other fifteen men in the room had stopped drinking and gambling and were instead focused on the three of them, though they hadn't spread out. Some carried simple spiked clubs, a few them short daggers, a pair of them had proper swords, and a big one carried a big axe. Apart from the rest, one of them aimed crossbow at Nesio's chest.

Terrence laughed cruelly, "I must say lads, this was a rather piss poor plan." He pulled out his own sword, "You come in here, just the three of you, with your swords on your hips and try to convince me of some bull shite story that Mikkle would just let you roam abou' our humble abode." He gestured toward Harry, "And then there's this'un, who looks very much like the man I sent you to kill." He clicked his tongue disappointedly before cackling, "I was goin' to kill ye' anyway Hezza, but now it will be so much more satisfyin'."

The first arrow came down out of the upper level then, whizzing through the air and into the crossbowmen's head. The other members of Terrence's little gang turned to as their comrade fell limply to the ground, his body twitching slightly.

Using their distraction to his advantage, Harry twitched the sword in his hand sending the largest man near the front, who held the big double-bearded axe, back into three other men. There was a loud snap as at least one of the men heaped together broke something. _Let's see what we can do about the others._

"Stop gawkin' you stupid shits," The toad yelled as another arrow came from above and drove into the knee of one of the men on the ground, "Kill 'em."

Before any of them had a chance to respond to the command, Harry and Nesio both lunged forward, not wanting to give their assailants the opportunity to surround them. Harry brought the sword in his left hand down in a tight arc and cut clean through the clavicle of one of the men. He screamed out like a woman, fear etched into his squinty eyes. The wooden floor slickened with his blood as he fell to the ground lifelessly.

Nesio's sword found its way into the stomach of another man, and all of a sudden their plan didn't look nearly as foolish. Only twelve of the thugs remained, not including Terrence himself who seemed too stunned by the events going on in front of him to join the fray, let alone do the wisest thing and turn to run. But more importantly, they are didn't know how to organize themselves.

The big man with the axe freed himself from the tangle of limps that Harry had thrown him into; one of the men beneath him lay dead, his neck turned at an awkward angle. Enraged, he took a horizontal swing at Harry's head, trying to separate it from his body.

But it was clumsy and seeing it coming Harry ducked, allowing the blade of the axe to pass over his head and into the skull of one of the other thugs. Harry brought the sword in his right hand up and into the big man's stomach piercing through flesh and muscle, the angle driving the blade up through the lungs. The strength left him, he dropped the axe, and as Harry wrenched his weapon free blood and intestines started to leak from the wound.

Nesio took a man's hand off at the wrist before pivoting and driving his other sword through another thugs throat. He cried out loudly when a dagger found its way into his side, one of the bastards had pulled away from the bloodshed and snuck up behind the former pit-fighter. With a roar, Nesio turned and drove his assailant in the face, breaking his nose in a spray of blood and knocking out one of his yellowed teeth and pushing him to the ground. He stomped on the man's throat, killing him instantly.

As Harry slashed the throat of another one of their assailants, he saw Terrence turn to run. He started to reach out with his magic, only to stop as he saw Hezza step in the gang-leader's way. _Well at least he is doing something._ Harry's heart sank in his chest when he heard a distinctly feminine scream come from the upper floor.

Momentarily distracted, Harry took a deep slash to the upper arm. The same man with his dagger tried stabbing him along the collar bone but Harry brought his sword up into the man's armpit and through the man's shoulder and bone, tearing it from its socket. As he pulled away, he found that save for Terrence, there was only one man left, and Harry had little doubt that Nesio could deal with him.

Harry rushed past Hezza, sparing Terrence a moment of attention as he threw him into a heap across the room. The hired knife smiled, a cut across his cheek but otherwise unharmed. "Make sure he doesn't go anywhere!" He yelled back to Hezza even as he bounded up the stairs.

He rushed through the narrow hallways of the upper warehouse, bounding over crates and barrels, knowing full well where he ought to find Ashara. As he neared a door, there was noticeable grunting and a gruff voice spoke lecherously, "I like the feisty ones. Keep right on fighting beautiful."

Harry burst through the door, murderous fire in his eye and blood staining his skin to find one of the bastards with his trousers half way down his body, his manhood hanging out as he tried to force Ashara's own trousers down her legs. The bang of the door bursting open distracted the detestable man. He was fat with a balding head and narrow nose too small for his face. His second chin wobbled as he looked up to see Harry standing there, "Figured that the useless shits cou..."

He squealed like a pig before looking down, horrified as Ashara slammed her dagger straight up and through the fat of his neck toward his brain, he made pitiful whimpering noises for a few short seconds before falling over sideways and off of the young woman beneath him. Harry sheathed both of his swords before moving to her side, "Ash, are you alright?"

She looked at him blankly for a short moment before she blinked twice, and seemed to notice the panic in his eyes, "It's alright Harry, I'm alright." He rubbed his thumb gently against her brow, and she smiled up at him, "He didn't think to check me for anything more than my bow," She said a little distantly, "I was going to shove my dagger through his throat at the first opportunity," He helped her stand, "Thank you for providing that opportunity."

Harry swallowed thickly, "There was a reason I didn't want you to come along."

Ashara glared up at him, "I wasn't raped Harry," she told him bluntly, "and while I know that the whole thing will hit me rather hard once all is said and done, I would rather be here with all the risks involved than back at Starfall worrying over your well-being." She reached down to the hilt of her dagger where it still protruded from her assailant's neck and pulled it free, wiping the blood off on his shirt. She took a deep steadying breath before addressing him again, "Now, I take it the others are dead?"

He admired how well she managed to handle not only the assault on her person but also gutting the one responsible. _She will break down eventually. I'll just have to be there for her when she does._

Together, they made their way back down to the ground level and found Nesio standing over a bound Terrence leaning heavily on one of his swords while he applied pressure to his wounded side. The cloth there was stained heavily in blood. Ashara rushed to the former slave's side and started to fuss over him but he just waved her away, "It can be dealt with later, let's deal with more pressing concerns." She ignored him and fussed anyway while Harry approached the bound man.

He pulled up a chair across from the gang leader and sat down, "So Terrence, I want you to tell me a story. The one where you decided to have the master-of-arms at Starfall killed and why you did it."

"Fuck you," He spat out. Harry calmly and slowly started to sink the tip of his dagger into his knee, not saying a word. At first the man simply bore the pain, but as it sank deeper he couldn't stop the grunt that escaped his throat.

But when Harry started to twist the knife, Terrence decided that his silence wasn't worth it, he screamed out, "I'll tell you! Seven hells, I'll tell you! Jus' get the dagger out my leg."

Harry pulled it free cleanly and wiped the blood of on Terrence's trousers, "Good, now like I said, tell me a story."

"You must be his son, you look just like him and have the same damned attitude," Terrence started, the dagger drawing closer to his leg again spurred him on, "I'm from the Reach, and more than ten years ago I ran a gang in Highgarden. Your da' brought me and half my men in and had us rottin' in the dungeons of the castle. Have t' admit, I was rather impressed, given he did it alone."

"So you are one of the men my father brought to justice when he worked as one of Highgarden's city guard," Harry wasn't expecting that but he couldn't imagine what would have made him seek out Reynard's life, "It happened years ago, why have him murdered now?"

"I didn't just do this on a whim," Terrence said almost offended, "been tryin' to track him down since I was released from Highgarden's dungeons."

"But why?" Harry almost yelled.

"Because it was the condition of my… let's call it… rushed release," Terrence said with a wicked smile, making his already ugly face look all the more so, "Had it been up to me alone, I would have left 'im be but I always had one of Garth Tyrell's men stickin' to me, keepin' an eye on me. I'll admit I was willin' to at least make a go of it considerin' the **fat** pouch of gold the **fat** lord promised me. "

"Garth Tyrell?" Harry asked, acid lacing the name.

"Aye," Terrence responded hesitantly, recognizing the potential danger of his situation, "He came to the cells one night with five of his men. He told me he would let me and three men of my choice free if I promised to find and kill the man who put me there to begin with."

"And once you were free, why concern yourself with the matter? Why not just kill the men Garth sent with you? " Harry asked, trying to wrap his head around this whole scheme.

"I tried a couple of times," He admitted unrepentantly, "but it wasn't worth it in the end, so I figure' why not just put a token effort to keep 'em satisfied. And should I get lucky and find him, I'd have him killed and go claim my reward."

"And you ended up in Volantis how?"

"Traced your da' to Oldtown but couldn't find any word from there." He chuckled, "Then Tyrell's men got a lead about five years ago that your father might have left for the Free Cities after his hasty departure from Oldtown. Ended up here in Volantis, and found nothin'." He looked particularly satisfied with himself as he continued, "Decided I needed more men to really make a go of findin' him, so I got back into business with a new gang. Among other things, I started smugglin' and one of my men, one of the ones that I ran with in Highgarden, stayed outside of Starfall. He got lucky and saw that guard walkin' about with some red-haired beauty outside of the castle" He cackled almost maniacally, "Think I realized why the fat man really hated your dad after I heard that story. Garth's love of serving girls was well known among the lowly of the city, and he never took kindly to those who refused him."

He paused briefly before glaring in Hezza's direction, "I thought Tyrell had the right idea of it so I hired someone unattached to me to do the deed. Came back to bite me in the ass though."

"It certainly did," Harry agreed as he stood, "Anything else you would like to say?"

"I don't feel one bit of remorse for doin' what I did." He said vindictively. Harry pulled one of his swords from its sheath and ran the sharpened steel against the line of Terrence's throat. He leaned in to it, causing a shallow cut to form, "Go on then."

Harry didn't yell as he brought the sword back with a rush of air and slashed it at the gang leader's neck. The blade cut through flesh and bone, and Harry drove through the resistance until it came out cleanly on the other side, the head fell to the ground with a heavy thud and the body went limp in its bindings. There was an oppressive silence in the room as everyone within seemed to stop breathing.

The atmosphere was broken when Hezza spoke up hesitantly, "Well, I am glad you have had your vengeance. I'll just be on my way." He made to leave but Harry stopped him with an outstretched hand and dragged him back with his magic, "I'm sure he has more men in the city who will arrive here at some point, and you did promise me my life."

"You're right, I did promise you your life," Harry said evenly, his voice oddly hollow, "But I didn't promise you would escape without facing justice." Hezza looked terrified. _And he should be._ He drove the man to the ground and forced him to extend his arms out on the ground, "Be glad I'm allowing you to escape this place with a thief's punishment." His sword came down and severed both of Hezza's hands at the wrist. He wailed even as Harry cauterized the wound with a burst of fire. "And I can't have you telling people what you have seen me do, so…" He extended his hand and performed a spell that he'd only seen on one occasion, performed by an incompetent at that.

When the obliviation was finished, it left Hezza unconscious and Harry dizzy. He plopped his body back into the chair and tried to regain his bearings. It was only when he heard a grunt of pain that he pulled his head from his hands. Ashara held a red hot knife against the wound in Nesio's side before pouring a bit of boiling wine on it.

"There that's all I can do for you," She said softly. Nesio smiled at her before they both looked to him.

Ashara approached him standing just beside his chair; she grabbed his head and pulled it to her stomach gently running her hands through his hair. He hadn't even realized the tears that started to fall down his cheeks, mistaking it instead for the wetness of blood. They remained that way for he knew not how long, but when he finally pulled away he looked up into her violet eye and spoke softly, "I've done some terrible things in the pursuit of justice, and I haven't even found it yet." _No, Terrence was just another link in the chain._

Ashara shook her head slightly, "I would do terrible things trying to find justice for my brothers or my parents… or you." He smiled weakly at that, "I won't let you lose yourself as you do this for your father."

Nesio joined them looking slightly pale, his arm still guarding the tender flesh on his side, "Garth Tyrell?"

"So it would seem," Harry said darkly.

"What will you do?" Nesio questioned.

Harry thought that over himself, "With regards to Garth, nothing." This surprised them both, "For now at least. I want him to forget, to feel entirely secure before I come for him." He elaborated.

"So what shall we do?" Ashara's brow was furrowed cutely.

"First, we shall depart this place lest more of his men come here." He stood and looked them both in the eye, "But soon, I am going to visit Valyria." Whatever they expected him to say, that certainly wasn't it. Ashara's eyes widened while Nesio looked downright horrified.


	9. Chapter 9

AN: Thank you as always for the reviews everyone. Glad most people seem to be enjoying the story so far. If you left a review and I failed to answer one of your questions, I apologize. I do my best to make sure I get back to everyone. As for the guest reviews...

coldblue: 1) He'll find the sort of stuff you would expect in Valyria 2) Eventually 3) Read and find out 4) They really already are 5) Soon enough 6) He will have a role in the Rebellion, yes 7) It's possible I suppose 8) No 9) It could happen 10) There will always be a cost with magic for Harry in this world.

reader: Tellimicus and I do make a pretty good beta/author, but this story is all me. Garth does not know who exactly it was that he wanted killed. He does not know that anyone will be seeking retribution against him. As for how much Harry knows about his family, his father told him everything from his point of view. Given his own contentious relationship with his siblings, he isn't overly biased. The only thing that changed was the terms of their fealty. They did not demand Kevan as a hostage.

* * *

It was past midnight as the soft clink of metal on metal could just be heard over the rhythmic snoring of Nesio a few feet away. Harry noticed that his former teacher's breathing came easier that night then it had the three before. The wound on his side was still bandaged but the swelling had diminished significantly. The stalwart warrior refused Harry when he offered to inspect and heal it using magic. He suffered worse in the past, and didn't see the need to bother with magic. Admittedly, Nesio appeared almost… fearful of the idea.

Harry let a few more coins slip through his fingers, the low light of a nearby candle glinted off of the surface of each as they landed on his blanket with a dull thud. They had a considerable sum of money after raiding Terrance's base of operations. Unwilling to set fire to the building lest it spread to the nearby wooden hovels of the downtrodden of the city, Harry and Nesio had agreed the next best course of action was to make it appear as though a rival gang was responsible for Terrence's demise. In the dead of night, they left the warehouse completely bereft of any easily carried valuables and discreetly returned to the Merchant's House. The guards of the city paid it little mind, the death of cretins on the western bank of the city meant little to the people of wealth and plenty on the eastern banks. _Well perhaps Peramyion is peeved that the man who was meant to ensure he would be Triarch is dead._

In the three days since their little excursion into the underbelly of Volantis, Harry had spent much of his time walking the docks along the southern banks of the city. _There is only one way of reaching the city of Valyria, and we will need a boat._ He wasn't looking for anything of particularly impressive size; it would only be the three them taking the journey. _It may only be two depending on what Nesio decides._ The usually undaunted swordsman had shown nothing but utter terror at the mere mention of venturing to the haunted shores of the Doom, but he only grew more disturbed when Harry explained he had every intention of remaining among the old ruins of the once great city and remaining for days if that is what was necessary.

They would depart the next day, earlier that same day he had found a man willing to part from his vessel. Granted, it cost Harry a good deal more coin than he expected but it did not make a significant dent in his coin pouch and the vessel would be manageable for the three of them. The one purchase that had drawn truly peculiar looks was the two dozen chests, all of which were now shrunken.

Tonight, Harry was restless; slumped against the wall that separated them from Ashara's room. Despite his conviction that Valyria would be his next destination, understandably, he had his own concerns regarding the venture. _They say no man sees those cursed shores without death following them shortly after. I wonder what happens to those who actually step foot there._ And then there was Ashara to consider.

There was a brief moment where he entertained the idea of sending Ashara back to Starfall with Nesio as her defender. But when Ashara caught wind of this she quickly decided no such thing would take place. She made it perfectly clear she had absolutely no intention of abandoning him to venture into Valyria alone. _Though, it had as much to do with her excitement at the prospect of visiting the Freehold as it did remaining with me._ Truthfully, Harry was now far more concerned about what Arthur would do to him when he learned he allowed his beloved younger sister to travel to the Doom. _But he knows Ash well enough, I'm sure he will understand… and if he doesn't hopefully I don't end up with too many bloody wounds to heal._

Knowing that he needed to sleep sooner rather than later, he returned the coins to their pouch. He had counted them half a hundred times in the dark hours of the night. It was only as he made to place it beneath the rolled up bundle of cloth he used as pillow that he heard a noise from the other side of the wall. It was a whimper followed quickly afterward by a short, though clearly terrified scream. Quickly and quietly as he could manage, so as not to disturb his friend, Harry exited their room and stood in front of Ashara's but came up short as he looked at the complex lock on the otherwise nondescript door. Only she had the key to the room, but Harry knew there was a way around it.

Casting aside any doubts regarding propriety or privacy, Harry brought his hand to the lock and cast a silent _Alohomora._ He heard the distinctive click of the lock opening before reaching for the handle of the door and pushing his way into the room.

It was almost completely dark within the room, only a thin ray of moonlight coming from the window allowing him to see. On the sparse featherbed within, Ashara slept fitfully. Her long, dark tresses were tangled about her head and a few strands stuck to her glistening skin. She was twisting and turning slightly as though struggling, her arms flailing out at some unseen assailant. He had hoped she would not endure any repercussions from what happened in the warehouse but knew it was only wishful thinking. The sight before him was evidence enough of that.

The floorboards squeaked beneath his bare feet as he padded his way over to her bedside. She gave another soft whimper as he came to stand in front of her, casting a shadow on her face. He sat down upon the edge of the bed and brought is hands to each side of her face. Instinctually, she tried to pull away from his touch but he managed to cup her face gently between his two hands. He moved the strands of hair away from her face and then stroked her cheeks soothingly.

She calmed slightly at the comforting touch but still twitched in fear or from some phantom pains. Moving his lips to her ear, he spoke her name trying to coax her from her sleep. After a few short moments she stilled, before blinking the sleep from her eyes and stretching slightly. She looked at him blearily for a moment, confusion in those violet eyes before clarity seemed to hit her.

Moving away from him slightly, Ashara pushed herself up the bed and rested her back against the wall. It was only then that Harry noticed her attire, nothing more than a slightly transparent, thin shift clinging to the prominent curve of her bust. His concern for her gave way to any other reaction he might have, and he paid the enticing sight very little attention.

Only half looking at him out of the corner of her eye, Ashara finally spoke, "Why are you in here Harry? How did you even get in here?" There was a note of accusation in her voice, but he took no offense. He just didn't like seeing her appear so vulnerable, so unsure of herself.

Ignoring the question for a moment, he turned his body so that he was sitting directly beside her, their shoulders touching, "Magic," He answered with a slight smile, "is how I got in here. But I'm only in here because I heard you make some rather distressing noises as I sat awake next door."

She furrowed her brow at that, scrutinizing him, "Is this how it is going to be then? I'm never going to have a moment's privacy because you can get into any room you want because of magic." She tried to sound properly irritated but her full lips turned up slightly as she finished.

Pleased she wasn't actually offended he slumped down further and rested his head against her soft shoulder, "No, you will have your privacy Ash. Though jamming doors would be more effective than locking them in my case." She smiled slightly at that, and relaxed against him running one hands through his dark hair, "You were having a nightmare?"

The hand in his hair stilled for just a second and he felt the subtle stiffening of her shoulders, he almost thought he heard the slight quickening of her heartbeat. Ashara let her hesitation pass quickly though, and responded with impressive calm, "A nightmare, yes, but nothing out of the ordinary."

"It sounded and looked truly distressing." His fingers danced up her arm causing a slight shiver, and goose pimples to form on her skin, "Would you like to talk about it?"

Her eyes narrowed, and a scowl formed as she pulled away from him, the hand leaving his hair, "No," she replied succinctly, and turned to lie down once again. But Harry's arm around her shoulder stopped her.

Harry understood her reluctance to discuss this. Growing up with two older brothers and him as well, Ashara Dayne had never been anything but tough mentally and physically, unflappable both when in a war of words or in the yard. She, like anybody, didn't want to show the weakness she was currently feeling. Harry knew the feeling well, not just from this life but from another as well. How many times had Harry Potter not wanted others to see him weak, or broken?

"Ash," He spoke her name tenderly, "you were there for me in the warehouse when I questioned everything I've done. Let me be here for you now." This seemed to catch her off guard, as she turned to look at him then. Tears began to swell at the edge of her vision, but she forced them back with a practiced ease.

Sighing in resignation, she allowed him to pull her closer again, this time her head rested comfortably on his chest. They sat there in silence until drunkards could be heard bursting, or being thrown, out of the inns doors three floors below them.

They shared a look before laughing slightly together, it was only then that Ashara started speaking, her voice almost unnatural in the late night darkness, "I was back in the warehouse. That fat bastard had me pinned to the ground, and that first moment of panic when I didn't have a plan, when I thought you were otherwise occupied, that scream of honest terror that was ripped from my lungs, the weight of him as he tried to force himself upon me. I felt all of it at once." She swallowed thickly, "And then instead of you bursting through the door, instead of the dagger on my thigh, there was no escape. He forced himself upon me." Her face scrunched up in disgust as she thought back on the nightmare, "He was sweaty and groping and forceful. There was pain inside and out," She leaned up to place a kiss upon his cheek, "Thank you for waking me."

She took a deep, shuddering breath that wracked her entire body, "Sitting here now, I know that it was just a dream but I can still feel his hands on me, roughly trying to take my body. And even though you killed him, even though I was going to kill him…" Pulling back so that she was looking him in the eye, she told him timidly, "I've never felt that afraid before, that weak before. And I can't help imagining how things might have been different." The admission seemed to take a great deal out of her as she leaned more heavily into his body.

Harry kissed the top of her head firmly as his hand rubbed small, soothing circles on her lower back. Unconsciously, Ashara moved more deeply into his touch, "You weren't weak, Ash." He assured her, "You were strong." She made to retort but he silenced her with a look, "You were afraid, and you had every right to be. You didn't know where I was, where Nesio was, and you were taken unawares by a man three times your size. Instead of panicking you fought back, you planned and you had every intention of killing the bastard before he had the opportunity to do what he intended."

He cupped her chin, "You were stronger than most would have been in your position. You could have resigned yourself to that fate but you fought back instead," He kissed her on the lips quickly, surprising her, "Fear doesn't mean you are weak. You experienced something traumatic, and there is little doubt in my mind that you will remain the brilliant, beautiful, vibrant woman you have always been and that makes you anything but weak." She smiled widely at that, "And in time you will forget that man's face and the feel of his hands because you won't let a cretin like that affect you."

She nodded her head that usual light of confidence back in her eyes. He gave her a small smile as silence fell between them. He knew that nothing more need to be said on the matter, that she would be fine. _She would have been fine anyway, but perhaps this will stop the nightmares sooner._ Ashara had been there for him, and he was glad that he kept his promise to himself and been there in turn for her.

As he mused, she looked behind him to the window of the room, "It's late Harry and tomorrow will be a long day. We'll need our rest." He nodded and made to stand but her hand upon his thigh stopped him, "It isn't the most comfortable of beds but it is better than the floor. " She pulled back the blanket revealing more of her upper body, "Just sleep here." That mischievous light he had come to know and love over the years was there in her eyes. Harry gulped audibly which caused her to fight down a smile, before her eyes softened, "I would appreciate your company… to keep any other nightmares at bay."

Any objections he might have had died without any further word and he accepted the invitation. Moving his body beneath the blanket, he laid there stiffly and almost jumped when he felt Ashara move against him. She turned on her side pushing her bum against his hip, her quiet voice carried in the stillness of the night, "Relax Harry." _Yes because it will be so easy to relax now._

Eventually, Ashara's body relaxed and her breathing evened out. He stayed awake for a time, hoping to ensure that she wouldn't fall into another nightmare. As his eyes grew weary, he didn't even notice as he turned on his side and pulled Ashara into his chest, let alone the contented sigh that escaped her as he did.

When he awoke early that same morning, it was not because of the first rays of sunshine pushing through the little window but because of an amused sniggering at the end of the bed. He looked there, shielding his face from the sun, to see Nesio looking far too pleased with the situation. Knowing where the conversation would go if he gave the man the chance, he growled out lowly as not to wake Ashara, "Not a word. Nothing happened beyond sleeping. Now leave us be."

The pit-fighter wheezed a laugh and nodded his head, "We should be leaving soon." Harry gave his silent agreement before the man left them be. _Well it would seem that he has decided to accompany us on our little journey._

It was only then that he became aware of his arousal pressed against the firm backside in front of him. Not wanting to embarrass himself, Harry quickly extricated himself from the bed and after calming down returned to his shared bedroom. He failed to notice the satisfied smirk playing across Ashara's lips as she pretended to continue her restful night of sleep.

They left early that morning, well provisioned with meats and water, enough in one of the shrunken chests to last them three months at least. The ship voyage would be a week, maybe two, but to reach the city of Valyria they would need to travel on foot with their three horses left behind. The three steeds couldn't fit on the acquired boat, but Harry had paid to assure they would be cared for six months after their parting. _And if we have not returned here by then, we shall never return at all._ It was with no small sense of trepidation that they set sail for Old Valyria.

* * *

It took them a week to reach the Smoking Sea, the place where the Summer Sea had flooded into the shattered remains of the Valyrian Peninsula. It sat between what remained of the Lands of the Long Summer and the splintered islands that remained of the peninsula. The sea did not gain its name by chance, even hundreds of years later, smoke rose from the surface of the water obscuring the land from view and making sailing treacherous as one could not see the jagged, jutting formations of rock that impeded the way until they were nearly upon them. They passed half a dozen wrecked vessels, with tattered sail and dilapidated wood, just barely sitting above the waving waters. _And how many more were beneath the surface?_

In some places the water bubbled ominously as new rock formed beneath the sea. _How many ships have ventured these waters and never been seen again? The dragonlord Aurion came with an army and was never seen again. Tommen II Lannister did the same and suffered the same fate. The Volantenes sent an entire fleet centuries ago and not a single ship returned from these unnatural mists._ Every day that passed in those cursed waters left him questioning the decision to venture there to begin with. _But I have already made my choice and whether it is for ill or good, it cannot be changed now._

In two days they sailed past the first of the largest remnants of the peninsula and turned south. It was in the center of the middle island where Valyria could still be found. Harry considered venturing to Oros or Tyria before the capital of the Freehold but there were rumors of inhabitants still in the ruined cities, and all tended to be of an unsavory nature.

On the thirteenth day of their venture, they brought their boat to rest against the shore of the central island in a little alcove very near to where one of the great dragon roads cut through the land to the east. According to the guess work maps laid down by maesters over the years as to the exact size of the remaining islands, they should be only fifteen leagues away. A long day's walk if they kept an easy pace and didn't face any hindrances.

Further along the shore, there was a ship long forgotten based on the tattered remains of the banners hanging loosely from the top of each mast. But the wood wasn't rotted. The ship actually appeared as though it might still be seaworthy despite the layer of ash upon every surface. _I wonder which of them managed to make it this far, the Volantenes or the Lannister king._

After thirteen restless nights spent aboard an uncomfortable vessel surrounded by the stifling heat of the place, their nerves were growing thin.

It was around midday when Harry hopped over the side of the boat and landed with a dull thud on the ground, a dusting of dark ash billowed up from the prints he left on the shore. _It feels good to have solid ground beneath my feet again._ Ashara and Nesio followed suit and the three of them tied off the boat, all of them with bubblehead charms in place. It had been a precaution of Harry's, unsure what poisons might still be in the air. _I was just glad it worked. Harry never actually performed the magic, only saw Fleur and Cedric do it._ As Harry made preparations to leave, he noticed Nesio was starting to set up his own tent.

Confused he looked to the older man, "What are you doing?" All of their voices were slightly distorted by the bubbles around their heads. But it still carried in the open, dead expanse of land along the shore. There was nothing green there, nothing beautiful, no color, just the blackened remains of trees and dark ash, like snow, upon the ground. But the eastern sky was a vivid red. _I suppose that saying is true, the sky is always red above the Doom. We shall just have to prove the other saying wrong_

"Staying here," Nesio replied tersely, throwing his things to the ground, "I agreed to come because I knew you would need more than two on the boat, if you wanted to come this far." It was true, Harry was not a particularly experienced, let alone skilled, sailor. While later in his life, when traveling from city to city, Nesio had been forced to work the rigging on his master's ship at times. Together they three had managed to brave the Smoking Sea, but there were moments where it was a close thing.

Nesio gestured toward the eastern horizon and the reddened sky, "But I will not risk my life there. These lands are cursed and I would not tempt death any more than I already have by coming here."

 _How dare he just abandon us to venture there alone?_ His patience resting on the edge of a knife given his sleep deprived state he made to approach his former teacher but stopped as Ashara stepped in front of him. Her eyes were more sunken than usual, dark bags having formed there but despite her own fatigue, she just grabbed his hand, smiling up at him. Realizing his folly, Harry spoke up calmly, "Very well, don't lose the boat though. They can be known to run away." The man laughed at his poor attempt at humor before Harry and Ashara started walking away.

"Good luck to you, my friends. You will need it." He chuckled loudly, that deep booming laugh of his but there was a hint of cynicism, "If you do not return within the week, I will assume you are dead and leave you here. So don't get preoccupied with **other** things." Harry made an obscene gesture back toward Nesio, which only caused more laughter to ring out over the gently rolling landscape of the broken island.

All of the Freehold's great dragon roads were made of fused stone, the stones of hell. As Harry took his first steps across the black stone, he could feel the old magic of it in his toes.

He and Ashara walked side by side, the muted padding of their boots on the stone the only sound as the minutes passed by in silence. There were no birds singing their songs, or beasts prowling about. The desolate landscape just felt foreboding, weighing heavily upon the mind with every step they took. _The Doom truly still rules Valyria._

Two tortuously slow hours into their journey, they heard a hissing noise over the next ridge. Startled by the noise they both hastened their steps. On the other side of the ridge there was a fissure parting one of the hills. Leaking like blood from a wound, lava glowed hot and red as it seeped across the dragon road ahead of them. The black stone was deformed there though not gone, and even twenty feet away Harry could feel the heat of it in the stone. _Every hill for 500 miles opened up and spewed fire and ash into the air the day of the Doom, and some of them have never stopped._

Harry noticed as Ashara started wringing her hands around the shaft of her weirwood bow before she bolted off at a run, in moments she was upon the trail of lava and with one jump made her way over to the other side and just kept running, the soles of her shoes smoking slightly. When she came to a stop, she turned to look at him. There was a challenge shining in her eyes. He bounded after her, and quickly came to stand beside her, an uncomfortable heat coming from his feet that he was doing his best to ignore.

Ashara giggled slightly before speaking, her voice raspy from disuse, "This isn't quite like exploring back at Starfall. Bit more exciting honestly. "

Harry barked a quick laugh, "I don't know. I would say Starfall was just as exciting. There haven't even been any killer eels lurking just behind me," He snapped to look behind him demonstratively, as though he felt something brush his leg, "… well, not yet anyway." The both chuckled at that, and the oppressive silence that had overtaken them over the previous hours, almost as though from the very land, dissipated. For the first time in centuries there were two people enjoying themselves in Valyria.

Time passed faster then, as day turned to night with them speaking as easily as they always did. They encountered many more broken hills leaking lava. In the waning light they set up their tent and ate their _delicious_ meal of dried meat and water. As darkness fell Harry conjured a bluebell flame; none of the wood nearby anything more than charred and useless for making a fire. Though there was a faint red glow all about the hills of the island.

As they sat there together around the flames, staring at the blue fire, Ashara asked him a question he had long been expecting, "Why did you decide to do this?" Until now she managed to let him keep his own council on the matter, but he knew sooner or later that her curiosity would get the better of her.

"Ever since we first read of the wonders of the Freehold as children, I have dreamed of venturing here myself." He said evasively, knowing that he would tell her but also enjoying the little huff of frustration she gave at the answer, "And with my magic, I thought it was a real possibility."

"That I know," She reached over and shoved his shoulder playfully, he just grinned unrepentantly, "But that wasn't what I meant and you know it. Why did you decide to do this now? What do you hope to gain from it?"

Harry lay back, the bubble head charm conforming but not puncturing. His dark hair blended into the dark ash beneath his head; Ashara did the same, her own raven tresses fanning out within the confines of the bubble, "There isn't just one reason behind this decision," he confided in her after a time, "The simplest reason is magic." She furrowed her brow in question, "Valyria was the center of all things arcane for millennia before its fall, and so little of what they could do, what they knew, remains. If I find anything of what they could do magically, I will be contented with the success of this trip." _Perhaps one day I will even travel to Qarth, Asshai, or even Yi Ti, and learn what secrets of magic they still practice._

Ashara snorted amusedly, "Leave it to you to be most interested in books and knowledge." He went to pinch her arm but she pulled away with a yelp, "Not that it's a bad thing. I would be much the same." She quirked her mouth slightly, "Though I would be lying if I said I wasn't hoping to find at least one dragonbone bow within the city." Harry grinned widely, having expected as much, "But this isn't just about magic."

The smile quickly fell from his face, "No it isn't," He agreed, "This is also about wealth and reputation." The declaration caught Ashara off guard. _Understandable given that I have never voiced concerns over such things before._ "My family's name was once respected, even feared, and I am the last one. If it is within my power, and I believe it is, to return my name to its proper place, then I will do whatever I can to ensure that happens." He ran a hand through his hair, pushing some of the ash from it, "Men will respect the people that braved the shores of Valyria and returned. My name," He paused briefly, " **our** names will be known throughout the Seven Kingdoms and the Free Cities too."

"But will people know you as Ser Harrion of House Reyne or Ser Harry, the orphan raised by House Dayne?" It was a fair question. Most of his life he had been forced to hide exactly who he was.

"In time, they will know it was Harrion Reyne not just Harry the orphan." He said with steely conviction and Ashara had every confidence that he was right, and smiled softly as he continued to look up at the clouded sky.

"That accounts for reputation," She whispered, "but why wealth?"

"There is much I hope to achieve, and gold shall only make it easier to achieve those ends." Silence fell between them for a long moment, not just over them but over the whole island again.

Ashara shifted her body so that she was lying with her belly toward the ground. Her hands folded together atop his chest and her head just atop where they intertwined. Those violet eyes pierced right into him, "And besides rebuilding your house and its name, what do you hope to achieve Harrion Reyne?"

He poked at the bubble around her head, causing it to depress and jiggle but not break; she rolled her eyes and swatted his hand. She looked at him expectantly, "I will see justice brought to that petty piece of filth Garth Tyrell," Still the name dripped with venom from his tongue.

"And? Is that all?" She ran one of her fingers along his chest causing him to shiver slightly.

"I hope to aid the smallfolk, at least in some way." It was a desire born of years seeing the condition of the common person in Harry Potter's world against his own. The Daynes were good to the people dependent on them but most were still uneducated, but those smallfolk treated poorly by their liege lords had far worse to worry about than what they knew. To make changes, it would require position and influence something he was sorely lacking at the moment. _And I may never be able to help those beyond my own lands._ Of course there was no doubt in Harry's mind that he would have his own lands in due course.

Ashara's eyes widened slightly but smiled at the claim. She always had a kind heart where the smallfolk were concerned. He couldn't help but think of the games in Ashford or the time in King's Landing where she gave a silver stag to each of the children they met in the streets of Flea Bottom. "I'm glad to hear it," Her lips quirked ever-so slightly, "What else?" He knew what she wanted him to say and decided to do just that.

"You," He said decisively, and she beamed at him.

"You hope to achieve me?" She responded, feigning horrified astonishment, "I thought myself in the company of an honorable young knight but it appears that I have been proven mistaken. I must hasten away from you in hopes of protecting my virtue." But she didn't move away instead inching further up his body so that they're faces were even, the bubbles around their heads just barely separated . He chuckled at her antics; he was long accustomed to them.

"Seriously, Ash," Harry said his voice a little raspy, "I hope to have you as my wife someday," It had never been said in so many words, they had never defined the things that were going on between them but there it was, "and it is perfectly clear to me that you deserve more than a poor orphan, serving as a sworn sword to your house." _Even had your father not told me just that._

"I'm pleased to hear it," Ashara responded affectionately, her hands playing rubbing into the muscle of his chest. But she didn't get teary-eyed at the declaration as so many young maidens before her might have, instead, after the private moment, she tittered, "They would be singing songs about it for decades. Like Jhonquil and Florian the Fool; the orphan who married a lady."

"You aren't particularly fond of those songs." Harry pointed out evenly.

She shrugged her shoulders slightly, "Still true." As she leaned in slightly closer she suddenly yawned, long and loud.

Huffing at his amusement, she pushed away from him, "We haven't had a good night's sleep in almost two weeks. I don't know how well we'll manage here of all places, but…" She offered her hand to him so they might go to the tent together.

Shaking his head he returned to a seated position, "Someone has to keep watch."

Ashara looked around with one eyebrow arched, "Keep watch for what? We haven't seen another living thing since we arrived here." She pointed north, "I would say the rumors about Tyria and Oros are only that, rumors."

Harry wasn't convinced though, "You saw the ship on the shore. They ventured to the city and never returned." Her retort died on her tongue as she thought that over, "Demon-haunted they call this place." He looked around the darkness, "I would rather not be taken unawares if those are more than just stories, Ash."

"Right," She leaned down to hug him, not sure what would happen if their bubbles touched, "You will wake me in four hours then." It wasn't a request it was a demand, and he had the good sense to do just that.

The night passed without incident, and while they'd slept only a short while each, they felt rejuvenated. An hour after day break, the young pair was making their way east along the dragon road again. The early morning sunlight pierced through the clouds on occasion, and in that light what remained of the great open-roofed towers of the Valyria could be seen in the distance.

They were maybe an hour from the gates when they saw the first of them, a skeleton. It was the remains of one of the great winged mounts that had seen the Valyrians reach spread from the western coast of Essos to the west of Slaver's Bay. The dragon's bones were black; part of its skull appeared crushed and broken, while the bones of its right wing were melted like candle wax. _Dragons are said to be fire made flesh, yet the fires of the Doom consumed nearly all of them._

They became more frequent after that, bones of both humans and dragons littered the ground as they drew ever closer to the city. But that wasn't the only thing he noticed, Ashara seemed to become fidgety, anxious even, as though just getting closer was causing her some great discomfort.

While the air grew heavier with heat and the stillness of the place seemed to become all the more encroaching, there was nothing to cause such a reaction from the young woman. He was growing more concerned as they were within half a mile of the broken gates of the city, the few remaining towers looming high overhead.

He was startled when she actually squealed like a frightened child as they came upon a corpse, not burned by the fires of the catastrophe that had taken place so long ago, but with an arrow sticking out from the back of its chest. There were two other bodies nearby that had suffered a similar fate. _Someone else made it this far._

Harry grabbed Ashara by the shoulders then and forced her to look at him, "Ash," His voice was tender and caused her wide, frantic eyes to focus clearly on his face, "everything is fine. We have seen far worse." She was nearly hyperventilating and it was rather disconcerting to see her so affected.

Holding her close for a long moment, she relaxed against him. Her voice reached his ears, muffled and confused, "I don't like this place Harry. It feels like I'm being driven mad with every step we take."

Harry truly didn't know how to respond to that. _Perhaps this is where the rumors of demons came from, but why would it affect Ashara but not me._ The only answer Harry could think of was that somehow his magic was keeping the influence at bay. _She should return the way we came. The secrets of Valyria aren't worth her sanity._

She cut him off just as he made to speak, "I'm better now though, thank you." She gave him a look as though she knew what he had been thinking before turning toward the corpse by the road. The body was surprisingly well preserved thanks to the ash; there were still bits of flesh clinging to the blackened bones. She leaned down to turn it over and revealed a golden lion emblazoned on the chest, "I believe that ship once belonged to King Tommen II of the Rock."

Harry frowned thoughtfully, "So it would seem." In truth that had been his hope upon seeing the ship. _But where are the others then? This could prove interesting._

As they grew ever closer to the gates of the city, Harry thought he could hear voices calling out from within its confines. He looked to Ashara, thinking she might hear it as well but she gave no indication of such even though she remained on edge. _Maybe I'm growing madder with every step too._

It took another half an hour before they passed beneath the broken gates, rent at the hinges. It was flanked on each side by surprisingly pristine sphinx statues, their painted eyes seemingly following them as they passed. Compared to the bones within the city, those without were sparse in number. Everywhere the pair looked there the remains of the dead, some piled up against the walls of the fallen buildings thanks to fierce winds that had plagued the island over the years. Others were fused together because of the intense inferno that had raged through the city on the catastrophic event.

Ashara touched her fingertips to one of the masses of what used to be many people and whispered sadly, "These unfortunate souls." _The greatest civilization in the history of the world, or so they say, and it was all snuffed out in a day._

The voices grew louder within the city, and it was only as he saw them for the first time that Harry understood what he was hearing, ghosts. _But not the sort of ghosts Potter saw in Hogwarts all those years._ They were ethereal, passing in out of sight in the noon day light but there all the same. The great difference was that they didn't even realize they had form; instead they cried out in horror, staring up into the sky disbelieving, running for their lives or asphyxiating on the thick ash. All were stuck in the perpetual horror of their own deaths. Pureblooded Valyrians or slave it didn't matter, every specter was terrified. _Could it be that the remnant of death within the city drives all who seek it out mad? These are the demons so long feared?_

As they navigated the rubble from shattered buildings littered along the path, Ashara unwittingly passed through one of them and it sent an unpleasant chill through her body, "I don't like this place."

"No," Harry agreed absently as he avoided a specter in his path, "neither do I."

Now to it was Ashara who looked concerned, "Harry, are **you** alright?"

He turned his widened emerald eyes on her, "I'm fine," She raised one dark eyebrow skeptically, "I can see them." He muttered in answer, "I can see the specters of the dead."

Ashara looked dubious before she considered what he said, "Must be your magic then." He nodded his agreement as they continued through the city. Many of the buildings were ruins, the black stones somehow broken others melted at their foundations in a river of lava. As they drew nearer to the center of the once sprawling city, they reached one of the tall towers that could be seen in the distance. It was in far better condition than any other.

Looking at the circular building, it seemed to be one of the last remaining monuments to the splendor of the dragon lords within their capital city. The black stone gleamed and reflected the red light. In its surface elaborate designs could be seen depicting beasts intertwined with old, powerful runes. It extended into the skyline seemingly endless, balconies and windows dotting its side.

Most importantly to Harry, the door stood open. The stone, inlaid with gold and silver, was scorched slightly but otherwise untouched, "There," Harry pointed to Ashara, drawing her wide-eyed gaze. He couldn't help but think that despite their color, they looked a little like Luna Lovegood's. "Let's look inside."

Ashara's gaze traveled up the expanse of the massive building before nodding stiffly, "Agreed. It seems the sort of place where treasures might be found."

They entered the building cautiously, a sword drawn and bow in hand. _Better to be prepared and not need them than be caught unawares._ He cast a _lumos_ that hung above his hand, causing Ashara to shield her eyes briefly at the unexpected light. They passed through an entrance hall, before coming to the main room of the first floor. It appeared as though this particular room would be used for feasts and social events just from the size of it.

Even in the dim light provided from the doorway, the interior was equally as impressive as the outside, a staircase of solid marble rose up to the second floor to their right. While on the other side there was a doorway that likely led into the ground. Furnishings, dusty but otherwise unperturbed, were made of fine silks. On the floor was a massive mosaic depicting two white herons facing one another on a sea of blue, each with a leg raised and crossed. _The sigil of the family perhaps._ On the domed ceiling there was an equally impressive mosaic depicting a great battle between the dragon lords and what Harry guessed was the Ghiscari Empire, though he doubted any actual harpies had been present.

Ashara whistled lowly, drawing his attention from the splendor before him, "Makes the Red Keep look like a beggar's hovel even after four centuries." They both sniffed a laugh at the thought, "So up or down then?"

Harry mulled that over for a moment before gesturing toward the marble staircase, "Up. I imagine the slave quarters are below."

"Makes sense," Ashara agreed as their footfalls echoed loudly in the cavernous room, "Any ideas why this building survived almost entirely unscathed while many of the others have been destroyed?"

"None," Harry replied with a shrug, "hopefully we'll find out on the way up." _The trek will probably take us half the day or longer._

The second and third floors proved to be very much like the first, only there were long tables covered in ornate dining utensils instead of the fine arrangements of furniture in the first. One of their shrunken chests was retrieved at that time and filled to the brim with the various dishes and utensils. Harry was slightly ambivalent about scavenging such things but gold was gold and silver was silver.

It was when they reached the fourth floor that the layout changed.

Reaching the landing, there was a door that opened up to a long corridor that branched off along the way. _There must be twenty rooms here alone._ However upon entering various different rooms, they came to realize there was little point in perusing each of them. While large and finely furnished, they were all the same. _Guest rooms it would seem._ This continued for three more floors. As they trudged up another set of stairs, Harry quipped, "The family that lived here must have had truly impressive legs."

Ashara gave a breath of amusement, "Or maybe their dragons just had exceptionally strong wings."

On the sixth floor, Harry stopped and looked out over the city from one of the balconies. Ashara came up behind him, "Can you imagine what it would have looked like in all of its splendor."

"Honestly no," Harry replied, as even ruined one couldn't help but be impressed by the Valyrians, "rather sad that." He said wistfully. He looked up at the expanse of stone above them. _Barely half way up,_ "Long way to go yet, Ash."

"Yep, you'll probably be quite sore tomorrow." She teased in a sing-song voice, "Spindly boy that you are." He felt a pinch on his bum causing him to jump. Ashara's quickly retreating form was shaking with her giggles. _At least the anxiety seems to have left her._ He chased after her and grabbed her around the waist, tickling at her sides as they reached the stairs which only caused her giggles to continue.

The next floor was a surprisingly sparse room, but it was when they reached the next floor that the reason why became clear. The room below was where any sort of attacking force would find themselves dying in droves. There was a lever to open hatches for pouring hot oil, or worse, and another that opened slits for firing arrows. _A fortress in the center of the most powerful city in history; I wonder if they feared attack from their fellow Valyrians if this was a necessity? But then the fortress may be old enough that it was built in a time where there were genuine threats from without._

More importantly to Harry and Ashara, this was also the armory for the household guard. Sitting in racks along the wall were simple hilted swords, and many barrels, some filled with bows and others with arrows. They inspected the weapons carefully; the swords despite their simple designs had the tell-tale smoky coloring and wavy pattern associated with Valyrian steel, while the bows had the black hue distinctive of dragonbone.

Harry could only gawk at the dozens of weapons lining the wall. _All of them together would be worth more than a small kingdom._ Ashara meanwhile was sifting through the bows, a similar look of awe on her face. After a few moments, she apparently found what she was looking for as she pulled one from the barrel and threw it over her shoulder while keeping her weirwood bow in hand. When she looked to him, she was grinning like the cat that caught the canary, "Alright, we can leave now."

Harry snorted and shook his head, grabbing one of the swords from the rack. Like the black stone, he could feel the magic in the blade. Silently, he tried to shrink the weapon and was disappointed when it remained its proper size. _The magic of the sword is resistant to more than just the rigors of battle apparently._ He placed the sword back on the rack and started toward the stairs, "These are resistant to my magic, and we will collect as many as we can on the way back down." Ashara gave her silent approval and they traveled up another flight of stairs.

On the ninth floor there was a distinct shift in the feel of the rooms and corridors. It was warmer, more inviting with tapestries hanging from the walls that had a clear personal touch. From there and everywhere above, they would be in the quarters and home of the family that once called the great tower home. This thought came with the unsurprising revelation of yet more spirits. They were not as distressed as those out on the streets, but some quietly sobbed against the walls while others screamed out loudly. Still they either ignored or didn't recognize the living presence among them.

They stopped in each room, pillaging the valuables of the extinct family. They both found it particularly hard to stomach when they came upon the remains of two children embracing atop a bed, it was all the more harrowing for Harry as he could see their spirits there as well.

They came to the lord and lady's quarters but found it oddly absent neither spirt nor skeleton to account for their presence. Atop a desk in the room there was a parchment. Ashara hummed to herself as she read over the Old Valyrian, "This tower belonged to the House Vaelerys. Their last lord was Daenor."

"Anything else from that?" Harry questioned.

"Just that the family owned lands outside of Volantis that he was planning on selling." Ashara told him as she set down the parchment. They went about their business, only difference being Harry emptied a chest filled to the brim with fine silk clothing and shrunk it. Having filled six of the chest as of yet, he thought it best to think ahead.

It proved for the best, as on the next floor they found what he really had been looking for. The library of House Vaelerys was extensive; the walls of the room were lined with bookshelves while the rest of the space had been made into multiple comfortable sitting areas, "Are those shelves made from weirwood?" Harry questioned aloud as he approached the one nearest him, a distinctive white with hues of red. _There are thousands of books here._ He knew that there was every likelihood that many of them would prove useless to him, covering things that the maesters had set down in the Common Tongue. But for every hundred that might be useless to him, he could find one that taught him of new and extinct magics.

The day passed in a haze for Harry from that moment on as they poured over the excess of tomes. Ashara suffered his obsession good naturedly helping him differentiate between those books that would prove worth his while and not. She even stopped at one point and sifted through a book on the great families of the Freehold. She didn't seem in the least bit surprised to learn that, "House Vaelerys was one of the oldest of the great families. They were constantly among the two score families who dominated the politics of the Freehold. At one point the lord of their house was even voted archon."

The tomes that went into their three different chests numbered in the low hundreds, most of them being discarded as they dealt with history they had already learned over the years. Despite that fact, Harry was now the owner of the most impressive collection of arcane knowledge of any Westerosi.

By the time they finished pouring over the thousands of tomes the light coming through the window had dimmed considerably. Ashara looked from the stairway to him, "You found what you hoped here Harry. Time to go further up?" He noted that any of her earlier discomfort had been replaced by her usual eagerness. "I want to find out what happened to the lord of the house."

The floor above them was perplexing to the pair. There were no hallways or corridors, no windows or balconies, no elaborate or lavish decorations; instead, there was a single wall of black stone gleaming because of the light hovering above Harry's hand. Both had the same thought as they walked along its expanse. _Things of great value must be behind this wall._

"Harry," Ashara said, her gaze still fixed on the fused stone, "try opening it with magic."

 _Well it's worth a try if nothing else._ He placed a hand on the smooth surface and he could feel it thrumming with magic. Focusing his own magic on the wall, he willed it to open. It was an odd feeling as something shifted within the wall but it was only a part of the key. Unsure how else to proceed, he pulled away, "It wasn't enough. It requires more than magic to open." Neither could hide their disappointment but they soldiered on all the same.

Both paled at what they found just above the vault. Skeletons were piled within the room from end to end, their bones charred from fire. The implication was clear, something had done this to them but it wasn't the Doom. And yet there wasn't a single earthbound soul dwelling within the room. Hurriedly, they sought to leave the morbid sight behind and came to stand in the highest room of the topless tower, awash in moonlight.

The lingering magic there almost forced Harry to his knees and it was only compounded by the dozens of specters there. Yet despite the abundance of spirits there, there were only thirteen charred skeletons. Eleven of which lay in a circle around the open space; the last two rested side by side against the wall to their right.

There was a distinct difference between most of the spirits reliving their last moments here as opposed to those below. They were not suffocating or burning but instead child and adult alike had their heads pulled back roughly by invisible hands and their throats gashed open. Stains of blood thick and black could still be seen where each of them had been forced to step forward and die.

Ashara noticed the look of disgust that came over Harry's visage then and rested a hand on his shoulder in silent comfort. He gave a small smile but it faltered as he explained, "Valyria was built on blood and fire, and they were happy to use the blood of their slaves to try and stave off death." Ashara's expression soured as they made their way to the two skeletons set apart from the rest. Each of them had a blade run through their chests. The hilts were beautiful, inlaid with gold and silver, adorned with runes and with a heron's wings spread along the cross-guard.

Harry inspected the weapons as Ashara took far greater interest in the book clutched tightly to the ribcage of the one on the right. She wrenched it from the death grip, bones snapping in the process, and began reading.

In the meanwhile, Harry pulled the swords free and inspected them. _The weapons of a dragonlord._ He pulled his own castle-forged blades from the scabbards Ashara had made for him and replaced them with Valyrian steel.

Ashara made a noise somewhere in back of her throat that drew his attention. A scowl marring her lovely face, she said darkly, "This was the journal of Daenor Vaelerys, and I know exactly why it is this tower survived unscathed." She turned back the pages twice; he waited patiently for her to continue, "When the earth rent and flames spewed forth from the ground, we hastened to protect ourselves. Eleven of our number all well practiced in the arcane traveled to the top of the tower." She swallowed thickly, and continued with a tremble in her voice, "There thirteen slaves were put to the knife and their blood was used to cast a protection over the tower."

She turned the page, and shook her head with her eyes closed before continuing, "Within an hour, those few survivors within the city realized we managed to avert the crisis, temporarily at least. They clamored toward our doors trying to escape the poisonous fumes. This proved fortuitous, for it was clear that the spell would not hold against the onslaught of fire bursting forth from the first of the fourteen."

"Any soul that came to the door was welcomed with open arms, and each of them sacrificed in turn to prolong the protection afforded our house." Ashara's fingers flitted across the pages yet again, shaking slightly in anger, "It has proved futile, the flames have ceased but the poison and ash continues spewing into the air and neither slave, nor noble, nor even dragon remains to power the spell. Only minutes remain to us. But my sister-wife and I shall leave this world together, by our own hand with heads held high, not gasping for breath hopelessly." She book closed with a soft thump, "That's the last of it."

The harrowing tale left them both silent as the wind swirled about the open topped room. Breaking the stillness, Ashara clutched the book to her chest with one hand, and grabbed his with the other pulling him toward the door, "Let's head back down. We're going to sleep in a bed tonight." She said wistfully, "We can explore more of the city tomorrow."

The pair ended up in the lord's quarters. Despite its age the bed was still comfortable, and Harry fell asleep quickly with Ashara's fingers idly stroking his hair as she read Daenor's journal.

He was awoken the next morning by an insistent nudging on his shoulder. He opened his eyes to see Ashara looking at him, a light of enthusiasm in her eyes. She waited patiently as he quickly broke his fast, and took care of his daily ablutions in private. When he returned she appeared almost giddy with anticipation, "Come on then."

With a skip in her step she led Harry back to the stairs upward, "Ash," Harry said, "You're feeling alright aren't you?" While her behavior had returned to the norm, he knew she could easily be hiding her discomfort for his peace of mind.

The smile on her face faltered and she grimaced slightly, "I'm fine Harry, really. I can still feel… whatever it is that is causing my discomfort. But focusing on what we're doing here has allowed me to ignore it; as has your calm presence." Harry smiled slightly and ran his hand down her back soothingly as they came to the floor with the single black wall, once more a _lumos_ came to life above his hand.

As they came to stand before it, the grin returned to Ashara's face, "I know how to open it."

Harry's gaze snapped to look at her as she reached down to her hip, unsheathing her dagger, "My mother's family weren't among the great dragonlords of the Freehold but Valyrian blood runs in us all the same." She cut her hand along the palm, wincing slightly as the cold metal dragged across warm skin. Blood quickly pooled in her palm as she placed that hand on the wall. She started speaking in hushed Valyrian. Harry caught only a few whispered words but she was speaking with such quick fluidity it was hard to follow. When she noticed he had yet to move, she tilted her head toward the wall, waiting expectantly, "You too."

Following the command, Harry placed his hand on the door just beside Ashara's and started to push magic into it as he had the day before. However unlike then, both of the locks seemed to break and there was a loud wrenching noise as the wall opened inward for the first time in centuries. Beyond the door was exactly what Harry expected and more, there was gold and jewels… a great deal of gold and jewels that glinted and glimmered in the bright light as they both stepped into the vault. They rested in such large piles that they could not even see to the far side of the room. There were weapons, tapestries, old tomes, dragon's skulls and just beside those, a single dragon's egg.

The last caught both Harry and Ashara's interest immediately. She picked it up between her two slender hands, and it appeared huge between them, "It's beautiful." And she was right; the silver-scaled egg had distinct swirls of purple intermittently along its surface. _It is rumored the last of the Targaryen eggs were destroyed along with King Aegon V._ He turned to look at Ashara, the grin on his face one of childish glee, "We're going to need to find more chests." A similar grin blossomed on her face and they rushed back down to the bedrooms.

After emptying every chest they could find, they returned to the vault. The egg was placed in a bag, as he was unwilling to damage it by performing magic upon it. The books were placed with the others while thousands of gold coins were stored away until there wasn't a single chest left unfilled, and yet there was yet more to be plundered. As he was closing up the last chest Ashara called out to him from further within the room. He came around another stack of gold and found her back to him. Her body blocking whatever drew her attention from view.

Coming to stand by her side, he could understand her fascination. It was armor. What drew the eye was how the scaled armor, edged with white-gold, had the distinctive rippling, smoky patterns of Valyrian steel, though those ripples folded to form arcane symbols within the steel. The solid metal greaves, pauldrons, and gauntlets had a similar appearance while the helm had heron's wings on the crown of each side. _Valyrian steel blades in the kingdom but there isn't a single set of armor. I doubt a complete one remains in the entire world._ Harry grabbed the helmet from the stand and placed it on Ashara's head making her giggle slightly, "We'll be taking this as well." She smiled from behind the overlarge helm and nodded her head.

The material proved to be just as light as Harry would have expected. _It can't weigh more than a silk shirt._ Like the swords, the armor could not be shrunk and so it was stored within the bag with the egg which Harry threw over his shoulder.

They departed the home of House Vaelerys in the late morning leaving much of their spoils magically locked behind the main doors as they went off to search the rest of the city.

But as they wandered their way through the ruins it became abundantly clear that Daenor, whatever else he might have been, was the only dragonlord able to protect his house from the onslaught. They passed another topless tower, though this one had fallen crushing a smaller building. Its foundation rested within a pool of lava making it impossible to enter. Harry diligently tried to ignore the wretched screams of the spirits cursed to live their tormented deaths again and again.

They reached the center of the city where there was a great forum. _All free landowners had say in the governance of Valyria, this must be where they met. How many thousands didn't even know as their fates were decided in this room when the dragonlords decided to go to war?_ There was a great heat coming from the center, lava bubbled there. Resting, almost as though sleeping, in one of the seats was a single body.

Harry placed a hand on Ashara's shoulder, "Wait here," Even from a distance the heat was nearly unbearable and he would not have her venture closer. Harry could feel sweat beading on his forehead as he approached the lone corpse. There was still skin visible upon the skull, petrified and cracked. Harry was elated though when he noticed the resplendent golden armor and the rampant lion of House Lannister upon his chest. But that was not most important. No, Harry wanted the lion-pommeled greatsword strapped across his back. _What would Lord Tywin be willing to sacrifice for the return of Brightroar I wonder?_

Wanting to be away from the great, stifling heat, he hastily removed the sword from King Tommen's back and only hesitated upon seeing the singed and tattered book sitting on the bench beside him. He picked it up and as smoke began to rise from his clothing, he hurried back toward Ashara who had an odd mixture of concern and amusement on her face in equal parts, "Did you just discover the remains of the long-forgotten King of the Westerlands?"

"I did," Harry responded, "I admit to hoping such a thing might happen when we discovered the corpse along the road."

"A Reyne with the ancestral sword of House Lannister," Ashara mused, "I believe Tywin would die of rage should he learn of such a thing." _We will find out sooner or later._ Ashara took the greatsword from him and strapped it over her own shoulder. It was rather amusing to see the massive weapon upon her person.

In the late afternoon they came to a massive depression in the earth from which ash and soot still rose into the sky, the heat even greater there than within the forum. Every building and even a large section of the wall had been consumed by the fires there, "That must be more than a hundred feet down," Harry commented as he stared listlessly into the bright flames below. There were a few charred corpses on the precipice of the downward slope, skin molted and black. _Most likely more of the king's men, but what burned them?_

The bright light reflected in the purple of Ashara's eyes, "I would guess this was the first of the Fourteen Flames that Daenor commented on in his journal, where they discovered dragons."

"This is where it started that day," Harry ventured. There were great many spirits there all of them screaming out in agony, many of them close by. He paid it no mind when they seemed to grow even closer, but Ashara did.

Suddenly, her fingers were digging into his bicep with enough strength to actually cause pain, "Harry," She hissed his name with urgency, and a hint of genuine fear, "I can hear something coming."

His gaze finally lifted from the flames below them to find something new before him. These were not the tormented yet benign spirits that littered the city, no the things before him, wreathed in flame, moved toward them with clearly ill intent. These were wraiths, perverted by the magic of the place where they had died. _Or perhaps Septon Barth was correct and the magic failed here to cause the Doom. And these were those slaves present when it happened._ He glanced down at the bodies upon the ground. _Well this explains their condition._

The pair took a quick step backwards as the creature hastened as it seemed to recognize the living in its presence. Behind it, more of them came, and Ashara spoke in his ear frantically, "We **must** go."

They were pursued throughout the city. The wraiths, unimpeded by any obstacle, followed them screeching, always close upon their heels. Harry gave a short snort of amusement through slightly labored breaths. Ashara looked at him as though madness had come over him then. Despite the precarious situation they found themselves in, he just laughed louder at the look before explaining, "It would appear that the rumors were true, this place really is demon-haunted."

Ashara looked murderous, "And how is that funny Harry?"

"We'd managed to avoid any life or death situations on a trip into Valyria," Harry explained evenly, "I should have expected my luck would have caught up with us." Ashara just rolled her eyes.

By the time they reached the tower of House Vaelerys again both were sweating profusely, their clothing water-logged as a result. And despite their efforts, they could feel the heat of their deadly shadows just behind. They were within twenty yards of the door, Ashara slightly ahead, when Harry felt a searing pain burn into his arm as one of the wraiths gripped him. He screamed out in agony, a guttural noise ripped from his throat that drew her attention and that of each of the wraiths.

Lashing out unconsciously, Harry did not have any purpose behind his magic other than to drive the specters back. There was a resounding rush of air, as suddenly the grasp upon his arm was removed. Just glad for the momentary reprieve from pain, Harry immediately started sprinting toward the tower, Ashara at his side.

As they closed the door behind them, Harry caught his first glimpse of the horde that had followed in their wake. _Seven bloody hells, there must be more than a hundred of them._ They could only hope that whatever magic used to build the great tower remained strong enough to hold the monsters at bay. They retreated into the main room of the first floor, and waited. Ashara was doubled over with hands on her knees panting slightly while Harry stared with baited breath wondering whether the room would be alight with the flames of those wretched spirits. After a minute, Harry breathed deeply as it appeared that they could not enter.

There was no beating on the door, no noise from without and as Ashara righted herself, she asked softly, "Do you think they've left?"

Harry didn't hear her as he finally looked down to his arm. What remained of his skin was a vivid red in some places while blackened in others. But more disconcerting were the few bits of bone that could be seen where the finger tips would have been. It appeared like a brand in the shape of a handprint. _Even if I can heal some of the damage, that mark will always remain._

Rousing himself as she asked her question again, he focused on the matter at hand, "Let's go find out." They climbed to the second floor, and made for a window. The sun had set and in the darkness, their predicament appeared all the more dire. The wraiths surrounded the structure, the light from them looked almost beautiful as most were red, while others were green, blue or even black.

"How can we possibly escape now?" There was desperation in Ashara voice, and tears forming in her eye. Her voice was haunted as she turned to look at him, "We're going to die here."

"No," Harry retorted passionately, "we're not."

"We're surrounded Harry!" She pointed out emphatically, "There is no way out. We either try and fight our way out and burn to death or starve within these walls."

"We will gather what we stored here, and then we shall leave." Something in the tone of his voice broke past her fear ridden thoughts. She looked him in the eye for a long moment and turned.

Scant minutes later, they stood once more in the darkened first floor of the tower, shrunken chests within their pockets, Brightroar upon Ashara's back, the other Valyrian swords bundled and held beneath her arm, and the armor and egg in the bag upon Harry's back.

"Take my hand, and hold on tight." She appeared confused, but listened all the same, "This is going to be uncomfortable." This didn't inspire any confidence in her as Harry closed his eyes and remembered the feeling of being squeezed. _Better than dying here._

He thought of that alcove along the shore and reached out with his magic. There was a loud pop as they disappeared from the spot. It was painful, the squeezing, constricting pressure that worked against every part of his body. But as quickly as it came it was over. They arrived right where he intended… outside of Nesio's tent. He took a great gasping breath. He tasted the hint of sulfur in the air, and noticed the lack of a bubble around his head. He reapplied the spell for both himself and Ashara.

Disoriented, she looked slightly pale but otherwise no worse for wear. She punched him with as much force as she could muster in the arm, "That was awful," she ran and down her face, "but better than dying I suppose."

He gave a short laugh, before a great pain, which he had been expecting from prior experience, shot through his body, every muscle drawing taut. His magic burned within his body from his exertions. As he fell to his knees from the tremors, Ashara yelled his name in panic. He looked up into her eyes as the pain turned to a dull ache that radiated throughout his every bone, "Still better than dying." She gave a wet laugh, as footsteps approached. Nesio's dark eyes were wide with surprise, and through his pain, Harry managed a laugh of his own just from the look on the man's face.

Nesio approached them slowly, almost as though he weren't sure they were really there or not, "It would appear, my friends, that you are the first to visit the Doom and return to speak of it." It was with that statement that darkness claimed Harry's vision.

* * *

AN: So a few things. First and foremost, if there is anyone who has never read the books but reads this story because they enjoy TDOMCM and have only seen the show, the stone men do not attack Tyrion in Valyria but in the ruined and flooded Rhoynish city of Chroyane. There is nothing that explains exactly what haunts Valyria, only that it is demon-haunted.

Second, I'm sure some people are going to question why Harry couldn't shrink the Valyrian swords, armor, or horn. As I see it, Valyrian steel is forged and enchanted to resist any sort of damage, either magical or mundane and shrinking it would be a form of damage.

Thirdly, he has yet to see the endless expansion charm which I thought was terribly convenient in the canon to begin with. So shrinking and featherlight charms were the most convenient thing he could think of.

Finally, thanks for reading.


	10. Chapter 10

AN: As always thank you for your reviews and PMs. I always appreciate them. As for guest reviews, here you go...

Dan: The thing is Harry didn't shrink every individual coin, nor did he expand the chests before using them. He filled the chest with the coins as they were, nothing more to it. They took roughly half a million coins in total. Wealth was not his primary concern for the venture.

coldblue: 1) He will probably try to hatch it. Dragon eggs generally contain dragons. 2) Read the chapter. 3) Possibly. 4) Nope, at least not yet. 5) It's possible. 6&7&8) Wait an find out. 9) Probably not in the course of the story, no. 10) Not sure yet.

Lupy: 1) Upwards of a hundred books, thirty-two swords, 500,000 gold pieces and all the other stuff. 2)For the sake of expediency and because nothing ever said otherwise it is 1:1. 3) You can see some of what Harry plans for the Valyrian steel in this chapter, the bows will be sold though and it won't be all at once. 3B) You would be correct. 4) That is most likely, yes. 5) The books will have varying topics but the ones on magic came from both the vault and library. 6) It will prove useful in its own way, though he may not use their actual spells very often. 7) It's possible.

RickJA: I'm not the best at answering these sort of questions, but I would say probably Katie McGrath.

reader: No he didn't bring the crown nor did they keep his remains. And no need to apologize for trying to present some ideas.

* * *

Harry awoke with a groan, his head pounding as their skiff rocked with the waves in the early morning haze caused by the smoking waters. His head was resting in Ashara's lap, her hand unmoving in his hair. Gently and quietly as he could manage, he extracted himself from her embrace and stretched his aching limbs. He could still feel a dull throb coming from the burn on his forearm but ignored it.

Nesio sat beside the rudder, watching him quietly with his dark eyes, "Finally awake."

"How long was I out?" Harry asked as he looked back toward the island they'd departed. The hills seemed to be alight with deeper and brighter reds and oranges than it had when they arrived

"Half a day," Nesio told him, "We meant to stay in our little camp along the shore but we were forced to change those plans."

"I imagine it has something to do with that." He pointed toward the glow.

Nesio nodded pulling the rudder to steer around one of the jutting rocks, "Whatever the two of you did," He gestured toward Ashara, "woke up that island. The heat of the place grew worse, and in the night the lights grew brighter, more intense. Ashara insisted that it was time to leave then." He chuckled lightly, "She wouldn't even let me take the time to pack the tents. I forget how demanding she can be when the mood strikes her."

"We saw figures, wreathed in fire, upon the hill as we were pushing away from the shore." The tested warrior seemed slightly disturbed at the thought, "I suppose it was good that she made me leave the tents. She stayed up more than half the night to make sure you were well. It was only once she could no longer fight the exhaustion that she slept."

Harry grinned absently, looking fondly at the girl in question, unsurprised that she would do such a thing. Though, his thoughts quickly found their way somewhere else entirely. _Those shades must not be confined to the city alone. But how could they have traveled so far so quickly?_ He understood the irony of that question given his own abilities. _All the same though, perhaps they were able to travel through the fires around the island. But they still found our camp quickly._ He looked to the raised, hairless skin of his arm. _Perhaps they did more than leave a mark on me with that touch._ Whatever the circumstances, should he ever have the desire, traveling back to the ruined city would prove all the more dangerous.

"Harry," Nesio pulled him from his musings, "there is something that we need to discuss." His eyes were still scanning the waters, though after their journey to the old city, Nesio was quite clearly confident in the path through the many jagged stones dotting their way.

"Alright." He rested his back against the side of the boat.

"Once we return to Volantis, it will be time that we part ways." He didn't sound particularly happy about the prospect but confident in the decision.

"Why?" Harry knew that the former pit fighter intended to leave and begin teaching anew. But he was a loyal friend, one who decided to accompany him in the hopes of avenging Harry's father. He still held out some hope that Nesio might return with them to Dorne.

"Garth Tyrell is not a man that I can help you kill." He smiled widely, "Well that is not entirely true. Put me in a room alone with him, and I could very much help you." Harry chuckled at the thought of Garth the Gross facing a pit fighter.

"But what I mean is that I am a man far out of my depth with you." Nesio sighed, looking far more worn than Harry had ever seen him, "I am a simple man. I know the sword and how to take life with it. But I am not meant to seek vengeance against high lords, even in the name of a dead friend. I am not the sort of man meant to travel to haunted cities and look upon the shades of those long dead." Harry was truly grateful that the man had set aside his fears and superstitions, and braved the smoking waters with them.

"And despite the years that I have spent training you, I am not meant to help you any longer. You are my friend, but your magic is something that I do not understand. Nor do I truly wish to understand it." Nesio's lips were in a grim line. _We have done so much together over the years. And in those years I have asked much of him. He accepted my magic despite his own reservations but at some point, there is only so much that one person can tolerate._

"I hoped that perhaps this journey changed your mind and that you would return with us to Starfall. Perhaps even become the new master-at-arms for Ulric." Harry admitted with a shake of his head, "But it would appear it has just made the decision easier."

Nesio gave a deep laugh, "Oh Harry, I don't think I would be suited to the position of master-at-arms. I get frustrated by the best of students." He gave him a pointed look, "To give me many – well I don't know how many would last through the first month. No, for now I believe that my place is elsewhere."

"For your troubles, and your tolerance, I can guarantee that you won't be leaving empty handed."

Nesio snorted good-naturedly, "Damn right I won't. With everything you've put me through…" They both snickered at that.

They sat in silence together for a few long moments then. Harry just watching Ashara sleep, grinning at the slight whistling she let out with each deep breath. There was much to be considered now about how to approach what came next, for his sake and for hers.

"You will start traveling again," Harry looked back to Nesio, "teaching Magisters, trirachs, and their sons – men of influence."

"That is my plan, yes?" There was a curious rise in his voice.

"Every place you go, every manse you visit, I would ask you to do something for me." It would likely be the easiest request he ever made of the man, but also the most important.

Brow furrowed in confusion, the scarred warrior questioned, "What would you have me do?"

"I want you to tell this story to all of those important people." Harry said slowly, even as the thought fully formed in his mind. "Make it part truth, part fiction and vague enough that people can guess at the details without knowing the full extent of them. And of course, you must leave out names."

"You want me to spread a rumor, why?" Nesio seemed genuinely confused by the request, "Was it not your desire to rise in reputation for this act? What reason do you have for trying to remain obscured by half-truths?"

"I have gold now. I have knowledge now. I have the finest of weapons now. But what I do not have is position or the means to truly protect myself." _Or Ashara._ He was aware that should people learn of their exploits it would see them both sought after.

Harry hoped to avoid new dangers and manipulations before they took form. _Should King Aerys learn of this, I have little doubt that the man would call both of us to court and make some claim to the treasures we've acquired. And given Ashara's lineage and her recent exploits, the King may see her as the perfect wife for Rhaegar._ The thought left Harry cold, despite his friendship with the Prince.

Then there was the issue of Lord Tywin. _If he learns that Brightroar has been found, there would be various courses he could consider. He could try buying it from me, as he has in the past with others. But given it once belonged to his family, he might not be willing do such a thing. And should he learn that it was a Reyne that found his family sword, he'll be all the more likely to take more drastic measures to acquire it._ Harry had no intention of putting others in the way of Tywin's ire. He wanted to be secure and have the upper hand, if possible, before approaching him with the matter.

That was to say nothing of what the other lords and ladies of Westeros would do when the truth came out. _There are always opportunistic nobles looking to ingratiate themselves with those who have done something of note._

He laughed humorlessly in his own mind. _I wonder which will prove the greater danger in the end, venturing to Old Valyria or navigating everything that follows._

"I will tell this story," Nesio agreed, unaware of Harry's wandering thoughts. "But sooner or later, people will come to find the truth behind the rumors."

"I know." Harry told him, "And I want them to discover the truth eventually. Over the course of time, if they fail to learn that it is our story, I will reveal the truth of our involvement. But for now I have no way of guaranteeing my safety, or hers, or any of the Daynes'."

Nesio smiled ruefully, "Yet you have no concern for my safety, friend."

"I have a great deal of concern for your safety. Just as I have a great deal of confidence in your ability to weave a story that will convey the proper message to the right people and keep those people from fixating on you."

"I can tell quite the enthralling story." He boasted happily just as Ashara began to wake. She looked around blearily before her violet eyes found Harry sitting there wide awake.

"How are you feeling?" She was clearly worried over his previous condition.

"I'm fine now." He promised offering her an embrace as she came closer, "Though I have no desire to do that again anytime soon."

"We were worried." She spoke into his neck, her warm breath ending a pleasant shiver down his spine. Pulling away she offered a big smile, "So back to Starfall?"

"After we stop in Volantis to get rid of that one." Nesio made an obscene gesture at Harry, receiving only a cheeky smile in return, "We'll contract a vessel to take us back across the Narrow Sea, probably to Oldtown." _I would certainly prefer Oldtown to King's Landing._

"And from there we can return home." She finished for him happily, resting her head against his shoulder. He smiled down at her but wasn't entirely sure that he agreed with her. _Perhaps one other venture first._

* * *

They reached Volantis without any issue, avoiding any unpleasant questions from the customs officers by abandoning their ship along the coast about a mile from the city. In order to ensure that no questions were asked regarding the numerous Valyrian swords they possessed, Harry and Ashara waited back at the ship while Nesio returned to the city and purchased a chest both large enough and long enough to carry them inconspicuously.

Unfortunately, thanks to the nature of the metal, any attempts at shrinking it would see that particular chest shatter. To fill it, Ashara thought to buy three Myrish dresses. _It had nothing to do with her actually liking the dresses._ But they did a good job of keeping the blades from clanking around in the chest.

Three days after their return to the Free City, student and teacher parted ways. The pair embraced on the docks as Nesio prepared to board a ship bound for Tyrosh. On his hip were two new swords made of rippling-smoky steel and in his pouch a sum of gold that could see him live out the rest of his days in comfort. The former would help to serve as proof of the stories he would tell, the latter was to compensate him for all he had done and would do for Harry in the future.

"Should you ever have need of a home, you need only seek me out." Harry spoke earnestly. This man had done more than teach him how to fight over the years. He offered unflinching loyalty and friendship, when he was only obligated to do what was necessary for the sake of his coin. _Something which is rare in this world._

Nesio smiled that wide, toothy smile of his, "I will hold you to that, my friend. I don't think this will be the last you see of me."

"I certainly hope not."

Ashara hugged the older man firmly, placing a soft kiss on his cheek, "Thank you for everything you have done." Harry resisted the urge to chuckle at the sheepish smile Nesio offered the young woman, and the slight darkening of his cheeks.

"It was my pleasure, my lady." They watched as the ship departed from the harbor before returning to their rooms at the Merchant's House.

They spent another week in Volantis before they found a ship that would take them back to Westeros. It was from the captain that they learned of the situation in the Crownlands.

The story went that Lord Dennis Darklyn of Duskendale refused to pay his taxes after his proposal of a new town charter was firmly rejected by Lord Tywin.

Knowing of the strain between Aerys and Tywin, Dennis invited the king to hear his petition in person. Against Tywin's advice, Aerys chose to go to Duskendale and deal with the problem personally. He took a small escort along with just one of his Kingsguard, Ser Gwayne. But upon their arrival in Duskendale, Lord Dennis imprisoned the king, killing Ser Gwayne in the struggle.

Even as they were told the story, Lord Tywin commanded a siege of the city; unable to attack for fear of the king's life. The siege lasted nearly three months by then, the whole ordeal starting early in the new year.

Of everything in the story, Harry was most upset to hear of Ser Gwayne's death. The older man had been a competitor of Harry's since he first lifted a sword in the melee. He respected him and to hear that he died because of the treachery of one dissatisfied lord left a sour taste in his mouth.

"Do you think my brothers are at the siege?" Ashara asked him softly as they sat together in their shared cabin of the galley. Their horses were in the lower deck with a number of other animals, many of which would be sold for slaughter.

"Arlan might be, but I doubt it. Not many men would be required to cut off Duskendale." Harry shrugged slightly, "I think it is more likely that Arthur is there. He may even have a new white cloak about his shoulders."

To Harry's mind, there was no one more deserving of the vacant Kingsguard position than the Sword of the Morning. He was confident that the likes of the White Bull, Rhaegar, and Lord Tywin agreed. And with the king otherwise occupied, Harry doubted they would delay the decision. _But then again it is possible that they wouldn't decide on the Kingsguard without his input. Such a thing might just sow greater distrust between the king and his hand._

Ashara sulked at Harry's words, "I love both of my brothers, but there are times that I wonder what Arthur might be if he hadn't been born a second son." _I think you would just prefer if Arthur could remain in Dorne instead of living at the capital._

Harry leaned down and placed a kiss on the side of her head. The frown on her face turned to a small smile, "I don't think Arthur would wish for things to be any different. As long as I have known him he has wanted to wear that white armor." He thought of how the older man had reacted to Elia years prior and couldn't help but think perhaps there was one thing that could cause him to reconsider his position. _I wonder if the thought has ever given him pause?_

Satisfied with that answer, Ashara rested herself against his shoulder. She fell peacefully asleep a few short minutes later.

They arrived in Oldtown a month and three days after they left Volantis. Harry tried to convince the captain to stop at Starfall but he refused, claiming it would leave them behind schedule. He thought about bribing the man but didn't want to raise undue attention toward the amount of money he really carried. They left the docks with their horses in tow, their saddle bags filled with food and more importantly their shrunken treasures. Ashara's mare carried the chest of weapons. Fortunately, it weighed little and the beast paid it little mind.

They were nearing the gate of the city when Harry heard a call from behind, turning he saw the friendly face of Baelor Brightsmile, the eldest son of Lord Leyton Hightower. _Or Baelor Breakwind if you listen to the story from Elia and Oberyn._ The man was a few years older than Arthur, dark-haired, blue-eyed and strong. He had a beaming, pleasant smile beneath a well-kept beard. A knight in his own right, Harry had seen the man perform well in a number of tourneys over the years. _I can see why Elia preferred him of all her suitors. He's always seemed a truly pleasant man._

He approached at a quick pace, though not running as it would be unseemly. The crowd parted as he made his way down the street and Baelor came to stand in front of them, "Harry, I thought that was you." He looked confused though, understandably so, "But why are you here? Surely you should be with Ser Arthur at the siege of Duskendale."

"An understandable assumption, my lord, but I am no longer Arthur's squire." This caught the man by surprise but he understood the meaning and then thumped Harry genially on the shoulder.

"I take it you are a knight then. And well deserved too."

"Thank you." Harry said graciously, "Arthur knighted me upon our return to Starfall after my victory at the Tourney of Lannisport."

Baelor nodded, "Wonderful, as I said, truly well deserved." He furrowed his brow, "But all the same I would have expected you to accompany Arthur."

"I am responsible for his absence." Ashara interjected pleasantly, "Before the whole ordeal took place, I convinced my parents to allow me to travel to the Free Cities. They requested that Harry accompany me for protection, and he generously accepted."

Like many men, Baelor looked the young woman up and down though he at least didn't leer. He bowed his head, "Apologies, Lady Ashara. It was rude of me not to greet you. I don't mean to be impertinent but I must say it seems to me that your father took a great risk in allowing you to travel with only one guard, capable as he might be."

Ashara graced him with a thin smile, Harry could tell the comment irritated her, "Your concern is appreciated, my lord. But as you can see, I am perfectly safe."

"So you are." Baelor agreed contritely, "I meant no offense."

"None taken." She inclined her head slightly before turning toward the gate again, "Farewell now, we must be going."

"My father would think it remiss of me were I not to invite you to dine with us tonight." Baelor interjected before they could depart. The pair shared a look.

"Your offer is well received," Ashara said genially, though Harry noted a hint of frustration, "but I long for home and there is plenty of daylight remaining to put less distance between me and it." She offered Baelor a smile, trying to soften the blow of her rejection.

Fortunately, Baelor was not a prideful man instead gracing them with a hearty laugh, "Understandable, I have longed for the comforts of home may times after my own travels." He offered Ashara a bow, "I wish you a safe journey home."

Once outside the gates of the city they mounted their horses. Ashara turned east, looking toward the expanse of green pastures that led to the far mountains of Dorne. She knew that just on the other side was the Torrentine with Starfall along its banks. But Harry wasn't looking toward Dorne.

He was looking to the north, along the Roseroad as it stretched off into the distance, "Harry?"

"There is one more thing that I want to do." He admitted turning to meet her gaze, "But I would not keep you from home if it is your desire to return."

"Where do you plan to go?"

"The Westerlands." He didn't want to elaborate with the crowd that passed around them as they slowly trotted by the side of the road.

Ashara furrowed her brow and looked down the Roseroad, clearly confused by his thinking, "It will take almost two weeks to reach the Westerlands, would it not have been easier to take a ship to Lannisport if this was your intention."

He whispered to her, "Sailing into Lannisport would have forced me to answer to Kevan Lannister, not Baelor Hightower." The Lannisters were well informed of what took place in their own city. He had little doubt that he wouldn't have made it out of the gates before being accosted by one of the guards.

"And I take it you don't want them to know what business you plan in the Westerlands?" She asked astutely.

"Precisely." Ashara looked conflicted, the idea of seeing her family again warring with traveling with him; because despite some of the danger, she cherished their ventures in the east together.

Finally she dug her heels into the flanks of her mare, galloping by the side of the road, "Well come on then!" She called back to him brightly. He laughed and spurred his own horse forward.

The pair lay together in their tent late one night in the wood between Old Oak and Cornfield, less than a day from their destination. Harry's greatest concern about this journey had been the possibility of outlaws given the current situation with the king. But given the bandits strung up in the trees just outside of Old Oak when they passed earlier that day, Harry realized that concern was misplaced.

They were avoiding the Ocean Road, not wanting to actually pass through Crakehall or Lannisport. _And from what I hear of the Cleganes, it is best to stay away from their hall as well._

It was only a few short months prior that Harry remembered making his way up the Ocean Road with a different Dayne, hoping that he would achieve victory for the first time at a tourney. _A great deal has happened in a very short time. My father dead, the killer captured, a journey to Essos, a near thing with Dothraki, the men truly responsible for my father's death discovered, and the dangers of Valyria._ It seemed to Harry that more had happened in his last six months than had happened in his last sixteen years.

Ashara was resting her back against his bare chest the only thing between them her thin shift. She was reading a book in the hovering light he had produced. At times, she idly thrummed her fingers against his knee. Every now and again she would drift to his thigh, making it difficult for him to think more than once. He wasn't entirely sure if it was a deliberate movement on her part, but he could have sworn that he saw her smirk once when he'd taken a short breath.

He could remember the days when they were younger and they swam in nothing but their underthings in the currents of the Torrentine. Seeing her in so little now, hints of the curves and soft flesh that lie beneath, was an entirely different matter. Though he was happy to know that she wasn't unaffected, he'd seen a slight tinge of red on her cheeks upon seeing him bare-chested on more than one occasion.

Trying to focus on anything instead of the beautiful young woman against his side, he turned his eyes toward the old pages of King Tommen's journal.

The tome certainly shed light on the mystery of what happened to the lost king. The man was meticulous about keeping record of his journey to Valyria. The last known report of him was very much true. He arrived in Volantis and was showered with gifts by the triarchs of the city, all of them hoping to win him over with promises of aid in future. The prospect appealed to Tommen.

 _Such aid could put an end to the constant warring between the Kings of the Trident, and the River and Isles, the Reach, and our own kingdom._ Given the treasures he hoped to find in the ruins of the great city, half seemed a simple price to pay for such aid.

But before he left for Valyria, a third of his sailors deserted from fear of the Doom. It forced him to hire slaves who only did as they were bid because of the whips of their masters.

Their golden fleet suffered greatly in the Smoking Sea. Harry knew from experience that those waters were dangerous even to the smallest ship, but to try navigating a galley through would be nearly impossible. Two of their ships made safe landing on the northern peninsula, west of Oros.

 _I fear that they have met their end. A great wailing rang out some hours after the smoke of this place consumed them. It seemed too loud for how far we'd traveled but this is a terrible place where I do not understand all of what is possible._

The king's ship was the only one to reach the blackened island that held the capital, making landfall in that same alcove. When pushed, a number of the slaves chose to swim into the smoking water rather than step even a single foot closer to the haunted city. They all drowned.

When they finally set out for the city, they numbered almost a hundred. Those numbers quickly began to dwindle. Their few horses scared and galloped away after killing four men in their fright. A crumbling hill saw thirty of them tumble into the weeping fires where they melted like ice before the eyes of their fellows.

 _With each step we take, it seems as though the distant city presses down upon our minds. The men are weary and paranoid. All that can turn their mind to purpose is speaking of the gold and glory that awaits them almost constantly._

Harry understood that struggle. The very land of Valyria seemed to try and drive men mad.

 _The great topless towers of the city can be seen in the distance this morning. One of my nephews, Loren, went mad and killed seven guards before I was forced to cut him down with Brightroar. It seems this journey has turned me into a kinslayer as well as a slave owner._ It was only then that the king began to voice his doubts about what he had done but he persevered.

A number of their men choked on the tainted air in their sleep and as their numbers fell further they were forced to leave more supplies behind that had been meant for the pillaging of the city.

 _What few of us remain arrived in the city and it is… magnificent. Even broken as it is, there is no city on this earth that I have seen that compares. My men have tried entering the towers but many are barred, still locked by some old magic. We managed to fill a chest of gold and found half a dozen swords._

Not the spoils that he was hoping for, that much was certain. They toiled within the city for three days, finding a number of books and valuables but no longer having the means to move them in any great quantity. The last of his loyal men jumped from one of the topless towers in a fit of madness. Tommen knowing that there was no hope of survival went to the forum of the city and sat down among the many rows to write his final words.

 _I doubt anyone shall ever read this, and if they do they are unlikely live to tell a soul. I do not know what madness convinced me to come here thinking myself capable of succeeding where thousands before me failed. Aurion was a fool and I have proven myself his equal. I shall miss my wife and children. I hope they will forgive me my folly. For this truly was folly, born of pride and greed._

 _I am the first man to brave the dangers of the Freehold in hundreds of year, and like all those who came before me I won't be returning._

Harry closed the book softly, drawing Ashara's gaze. Carefully so as not to damage the old tome, he placed it in his sack, "Anything interesting?" Ashara turned her body so that her chest pressed against him.

"It's just a detailed account of his journey to the Freehold." Harry said turning to look at her violet eyes, "There are some personal musings regarding his family, even a brief mention of a Reyne that married into the cadet branch. It was illuminating and certainly drove home the point that we were fortuitous in our travels there."

Ashara crossed her leg over his body, straddling him and laid atop his chest, resting her head atop her hands as she watched him, "Hmmm there was an explanation of the bodies we found along the dragonroad?"

"They were driven to madness."

Ashara shuddered slightly, remembering her own unpleasant experience, "I was fortunate to have somebody unaffected with me."

However, he wasn't unaffected by her body laid out atop his. He could feel the softness of her bosom pushing against his chest pleasantly, and the pressure of her hips against his own was having a noticeable effect.

Harry cleared his throat nervously, "I believe Lord Tywin will be interested in the contents of the book when the time comes. It serves as proof that the Lannisters were the first to reach the old capital. While he may not have returned, it is an important claim all the same…" He knew that he had started babbling nervously, but stopped abruptly as Ashara rolled her hips against his groin. He moaned involuntarily, closing his eyes at the sensation. When he opened them again he found Ashara smiling at him mischievously.

She leaned up and pressed her lips to his. He willingly returned the kiss, his hands gliding down to her hips to push her down more firmly against his manhood. He heard a hitch in her throat as she pulled away briefly before she attacked his lips with greater fervor.

In the low light of his spell, they moved against one another soft whimpers and deep groans escaping from their throats. As the minutes passed, their movements became more frantic. Harry could feel dampness begin to form on the front of his trousers from their combined arousal. He kissed down to Ashara's neck as needy, breathy whimpers escaped her lips. His fingers found the swell of one of her breasts, his thumb flicking over the hardened nub beneath the material of her shift. At that Ashara's mouth opened in a silent scream as her body began spasming erratically, her earlier measured movements lost.

Harry could no longer contain himself and felt his own release wet his trousers. Ashara took great gasping breaths with her head rested against the side of his neck. She turned her head upward, her lips at his ear, "I am sorry for the suddenness of that but I've been thinking of doing it for months now. And sleeping beside you every night has done nothing to dampen the desire."

Harry wrapped his arms around her slim form, holding her closely to his body, "I've had thoughts of doing much the same, Ash. There is nothing to be sorry for." He felt her smile against his neck and before long her breathing evened out.

He knew he desired to do more, to feel her skin against his in the most intimate way but for now, this was enough. He would not dishonor her. He would not break the trust that her parents and his mother had shown. _Still it is deeply tempting all the same._

With a wave of his fingers the light hovering in the tent disappeared and he rested.

* * *

It was raining just before noon three days later when Harry and Ashara crested a hill and came to what remained of his family's cavernous home. The trench that had once been used to divert a river into the caverns no longer existed. _Lord Tywin must have seen it removed some time after._ The broken gates that had trapped all within remained, and he could imagine the dead still floated in their watery graves.

Ashara nudged his shoulder, "Harry did we come all this way so that you could visit Castamere?" She was confused and a little bit irritated if he were to guess. She hadn't asked why he brought them to the Westerlands but she understandably assumed it was of greater importance than visiting his old home.

"No, but I know how to get where we're going from here." While seeing the broken remnant brought up some rather interesting feelings, he did not bring them to the Westerlands to see a ruin. Seeing it he was almost tempted to see what remained within but knew it was not good to dwell there, lest someone else happen upon the old fortress.

Ashara only furrowed her brow in confusion, following along on her mare as they made their way past Castamere and further westward. They traveled for almost an hour when they came to a village that rested part of the way between Castamere and Ashmark. Harry considered making this trip when the Tourney at Lannisport took place but decided against given the amount of attention on him and Arthur. _But now I have both reason and desire to see it done._

There were fifty or so buildings, all made of wooden timbers save one. The sound of a squealing hog came from one of the homes before it fell silent. _A lovely dinner I'm sure._ There was a small inn called the Broken Spade at the center of the town. Harry wasn't entirely sure that he would find who he was looking for but he deeply hoped he would.

Harry dismounted with a thud. His boots splashed water and squelched as they sunk into the mud. They paid the inn keep as they tied up their horses but they didn't go into the establishment. Instead Harry made his way down the wet pathway through the town toward the sound of hammer on anvil, and bellows breathing greater life to the flame.

The blacksmith owned easily the finest home in the village. The walls were made of stone with a finely crafted oaken door barring entrance. The forge sat alongside with the man's works displayed as testament to his skill at the craft. There was a helm in the form of a roaring lion, a breastplate enameled with the boar of House Crakehall in silver and brown. There were knives and swords, all with fine pommels and made of quality steel.

A blacksmith of such talent would usually find himself living in one of the great castles of the kingdoms but instead he plied his trade in the same town where he'd lived with his wife and child. But the great knights and lords of the West still came from their homes to commission him for work, allowing their own smiths to outfit their household guard alone.

Harry stepped into the forge and removed his hood, running a hand through his damp hair. The clangor of metal on metal came clearer as he watched the old blacksmith at work. Despite being in his sixties, the man struck with the force of a much younger man, his arms still flexing with well-used muscle. His broad chest shook with each heavy blow.

He was tall, only slightly shorter than Harry with grey hair that was beginning to whiten at the temples. He had a beard and a heavily lined face. Eyes of jade green glowed red from the fire. Finally, he noticed his company. The blacksmith looked the pair of them up and down, before turning and quenching the piece of metal he'd been working.

"What can I do for you?" He asked over the hissing of the rapidly cooling steel.

"I heard that you were the finest blacksmith in the Westerlands." Harry said conversationally, looking at the man's crafts.

"Aye Harrold is my name, and I take it you wish to commission me to make something for you." He finished, long accustomed to this business, and only pulling out his manners when a lord came to his little smithy. When his wife and daughter were still alive, he tended to have better manners for their sake, "It will be half a year before I can get to your order. How long after that depends entirely upon what you want me to make."

Harry didn't address the conditions, "I was told you spent every coin you had so that you could travel to Essos when you were only fourteen. Within a year you were an apprentice in Qohor, and within three considered a master of your trade. It was there that you learned how to rework Valyrian steel."

Harrold looked the younger man up and down skeptically, unsure where he would have heard such things, "There might be some truth to that." He edged toward the wall, and one of the swords that hung on a rack there.

"That's rather impressive for a man who came from almost nothing." Harry complimented still not turning to the blacksmith, "But then when you had notoriety you returned home to this village, and wed a girl who you left behind in the hopes that one day you would be able to give her a better life." He finally turned to look at the blacksmith when the hiss of a sword whipping through air came from his direction.

"How do you know that story?" He gripped the blade with two hands, ready to strike. Despite having made them most of his life, Harry could see that he was far from comfortable with one in his hand, "Very few people have ever heard that story and most of them are dead." He saw Ashara tense at the threat but he just waved her off as he finally met the blacksmith's hard gaze.

Harry continued unperturbed, "Then as you gained fame in the Westerlands for your work, you had one daughter with your wife, Renna." He stepped closer, relaxed despite the man threatening him, "And when your daughter, Lily, grew older you could deny her nothing, books being her love. You went so far as trading your works for tomes from lord's own homes. But it didn't trouble you when you saw her smile."

There were tears in the old blacksmiths eyes now, his knuckles white as his hands clenched tightly around the hilt of the sword, "And then one day Reynard Reyne came to commission a sword from you, and Lily caught his eye. He wasn't the first to want her, but he was the first to want her for more than just a roll in hay."

"They married and shortly thereafter they had their only son, Harrion." Harry pulled the sword from the old man's hands gently. He glanced at Ashara and could see that now she understood, at least in part, why they had come to the Westerlands.

"Why do you torment me with memories I would rather not dwell on?" Harrold questioned pitiably, shoulder slumped in defeat, "Is it not enough that I must remember happier times, and their unfortunate end in my dreams?"

Harry placed a hand on the man's shoulder, "I do not mean to dredge up distressing memories." Their eyes met, closer now Harrold noticed the vivid color of them. The same eyes that he remembered in Renna and Lily, "But I heard that story from my mother, and I didn't see any other way to convince you that I am truly your grandson."

Tears flowed freely down the burly man's cheeks, "Harrion? I remember holding you when you were small enough to fit in my two hands." The man embraced Harry tightly before pulling away, confusion winning out over joy, "How are you alive? Is Lily still alive? Where have you been?" Harry took note of the fact that his grandfather did not ask after his father, but then he couldn't entirely blame him. _For sixteen years he has probably blamed the Reynes for the loss of his only daughter, Reynard most of all._

"The story of how I am alive is rather complicated and best left for another time. But my mother is alive at Starfall in Dorne, though last I saw her she was rather distraught at the death of my father." Harry explained slowly, gaging the older man's reaction.

"Reynard loved Lily, whatever else his faults. I know she will have taken that loss hard." He scowled then taking a step away, "She's been alive these long years and never considered telling me of it, or her mother when she was still with us."

"She considered it many times." Harry tried assuaging the man's rising anger, "But she could see no way of coming here that would not end in our death and yours. Every year she would consider making the journey here, but reason convinced her not to do it. One person recognizing her was all it would take before you found Lannister men at your door."

Harrold made to interject but Harry stopped him, "How many lords come to your smithy each year? Those men grew up with my father and sat feasts with my mother. She never could have come alone, nor with my father and certainly not with Dayne men. She has never seen me compete at tourney because of those same fears." He could understand the man's hurt but hoped he could also see that the decision was born of love and fear for their well-being, "She thought of you often and it caused her no small measure of sadness, but she decided it was better you live thinking her dead than that you die keeping their location a secret."

"It was a tough decision. I can understand that." He conceded loudly, "She would have risked the safety of everyone she loved coming here. But you must understand that her mother died thinking that her only daughter drowned in the halls of Castamere." Sorrowful, that was the only way Harry could think to describe the man standing before him.

"We both know that my mother will weep when she hears the news." Harry remarked firmly. He knew that his mother could have done things differently but she had considered the safety of her child paramount and he would not allow her to be vilified for that, "So please, do not hold it against her. Just be happy that she is alive and well, and that you might see her again."

The thought brought Harrold up short, whatever anger remaining in him seemed to fall away. He spoke in barely a whisper, "I would give up every piece of gold I've ever made for the chance to see my Lily again." He looked at Harry shrewdly, "But I don't think that is the only reason that you're here." _Very astute of him, but then my mother is quite bright._

"You're right. There is another reason that I've come to see you." He conceded easily, "I wish for you to leave your home here and move to Dorne, partly because I would wish for you to be closer to my mother but also because I believe I could make great use of you talents at the forge."

Harrold seemed to struggle for a moment, "I… grew up here and lived in this home for nearly four decades. My wife is buried on a hill less than a mile away. How can I leave?"

"Because your Renna isn't on that hill and leaving this place won't take her from your memory. Because the remaining family you have lives in Dorne. And because if you decide to come, I will provide you with an opportunity I doubt you have had in many years at the forge." He pulled one of the swords from his hip, the Valyrian blades ripples shining in the low light of the fire, "I would have you rework Valyrian steel."

His grandfather's eyes lit up as he beheld the blade, "Why would you need my aid with this? It appears you already have what you need though I could not guess how you came by it."

"I ask that you trust that I can provide you with a challenge worthy of your skill should you agree to come to Dorne and that I will tell you the story at that time." Harry knew the best ways of getting to himself and his mother was by presenting them a mystery and a challenge all in one. He hoped that it would prove an effective method of convincing his grandfather as well.

Looking between the blade and Harry, his grandfather's resolve slowly crumbled, "In six months I will be able to finish all of the work I have currently been commissioned to make. When I have finished I will leave this house and come south to Starfall."

Harry smiled brightly, "You won't regret it, grandfather."

The old man chuckled wetly, "Hearing that word will take some getting used to." A rumble of thunder exploded above them and lightening lit the sky as rain began to deluge from the sky.

Harrold looked between the pair of them, "You'll have warm beds for the night." He leaned in close so that only Harry could hear, "You found yourself quite the beauty there, Harrion."

"How rude of me," Harry guided Ashara closer, "This is Lady Ashara Dayne. Ashara this is my grandfather, Harrold." They exchanged pleasantries before making their way into the dry warmth of the home.

* * *

The Palestone Sword was a welcome sight when it finally came into view from the banks of the Torrentine. The rain hadn't ceased for the first week of their return journey and while magic dried them easily enough, it didn't make the journey any less dreary.

Confident after his recent successes, Harry almost turned his horse toward Highgarden when they were in the Reach so that he might deal with Garth Tyrell. Ashara talked him out of that course of action, arguing that planning was needed for that particular matter.

They both cantered into the quiet courtyard of Starfall at dusk. Both Harry and Ashara turned when they heard a door open and hurried footsteps headed their way. Ulric, Larra, and Lily all hurried across the courtyard. Little Allyria was cradled to her mother's chest. Just behind them Arlan and his wife followed at a more sedate pace.

They found themselves tightly embraced by their mothers, Ulric smiling from behind them both. Harry laughed as he hugged his mother back, glad to see that she was no longer confining herself to her room, "I think they might be pleased to see us." Harry noted to Ashara with wry smile.

His mother leaned back, "Ecstatic. As mothers it is our prerogative to worry even when we might not have cause and we had more than enough cause with you two!" She poked him in the chest for emphasis, smiling at him.

"We heard your ship arrived in Myr safely from Prince Oberyn some months back after he arrived back in Sunspear." Larra informed them as Ashara leaned down to offer her younger sister her finger. The baby giggled and tried to pull the digit toward her mouth, "Between my worry over you and Arthur, I've barely slept some nights." She said forlornly to her daughter.

Ulric snorted, "Arthur is perfectly fine, Larra. Nothing has happened at the siege of Duskendale since it began. And if Lord Tywin chooses to attack the castle there will be little danger."

"Yes, you keep saying that." Larra said flatly, "But I will continue to worry. As Lily said, it is a mother's prerogative to worry."

Ulric looked highly amused but held his tongue. Arlan and Elinor joined them then. Elinor grabbing her good-sister's arm, "You must tell us of your time in the Free Cities." The young woman didn't know of the true reason for their journey and so Ashara followed her, extoling of the wonders of Myr and Volantis.

Harry and Lily lingered behind the others. He looked at his mother, "I learned a great deal. We'll discuss it after we've eaten." She agreed without argument and they all had an enjoyable meal filled with laughter and stories aplenty.

But as the night wore on, Harry found himself sitting across from his mother in her room. There was silence between them before Lily finally broke it, unable to contain herself anymore, "Well," she snapped, "What happened?"

"Hezza, father's killer, was hired by a name man Terrance." Lily tilted her head at the name, recognizing it for its Westerosi origins, "The man ran a gang in Volantis, but he was originally from the Reach, Highgarden to be specific." Harry could see the anger written on his mother's face, "And Terrance only took interest in father because he was released from Highgarden's dungeons by Garth Tyrell on the condition that he find him and kill him."

"Garth Tyrell." She whispered the name once staring blankly. But then she snarled, hatred written on her face and venom in her voice, "Garth Fucking Tyrell!" Harry blinked wide-eyed at his mother, unaccustomed to hearing her swear, "That fat, petty bastard! I ought to hunt him down and string up by his own intestines."

Harry watched owlishly as his mother continued her tirade, surprised at just how vivid her imagine could be when it came to inflicting pain. Finally shaking himself, Harry pulled her back to the conversation, "I have every intention of making the fat man suffer for what he did to father. Fortunately, he isn't aware that anybody has reason to want his life."

Lily exhaled through her nose, deliberately trying to calm herself, "Good, you will allow me to help." Taken aback, Harry just nodded his agreement, knowing there would be no convincing her against it. _Particularly at the moment._

He told her the details of the story, leaving nothing out. It was her belief that Olenna was most likely responsible for misleading Garth about their whereabouts and Harry was inclined to agree. To hear that it had been chance that let Terrance find them brought her no comfort though.

When finished with the story, she looked to Harry an eyebrow quirked, "How long did it take you to discover this information?"

"A little over a month." Harry informed her dutifully, knowing already she wouldn't be happy to hear what came next.

"You were gone for over four months. Where else did you go? What else did you do?"

"Well," Harry started nervously, running a hand through his hair "we might have gone to Old Valyria."

His mother laughed but there was no humor in it, "I'm sorry. I must have misheard. Did you just say you went to Old Valyria?"

Standing, Harry retrieved one of his swords from where they rested against the wall, unsheathing it he presented it to his mother, "I took this from the body of a dead dragonlord. I found him with the bones of his sister-wife atop their topless tower. The chest Ashara's mare carried has more blades, less richly adorned, well except for Brightroar."

Lily looked torn between pride at his accomplishment, and rage at his having gone to begin with. Eventually she settled on the former, "I can't say that I am happy you risked the Doom, with Ashara no less, but I'm amazed at what you have achieved and proud beyond words. Thank the Seven that you returned unscathed."

Harry rolled up his sleeve to show the burn on his forearm, "Not entirely I'm afraid."

"How did you get that?" Lily demanded, running her fingers over the healed wound. There began yet another story, and by the time it came to its end the moon outside illuminated the room in a dull light.

"You arrived in Oldtown, but you didn't come straight to Starfall," Lily pointed out, "so where did you go?"

Harry smiled softly, "I went to visit my grandfather. At least I hoped to. "

Lily's breath hitched, she looked excited, "Oh umm… why?"

"I wanted to meet him." Harry admitted, "He was understandably surprised to learn of our survival."

"And there was something I knew from your stories that he will be able to help me with." He pointed at the swords, "I have many Valyrian steel swords, but I do not need all of them. I would like the rest reworked into simpler weapons that require less steel. I believe axes, spears, daggers will prove more useful in the future."

He took his mother's hand and squeezed it, "Your father agreed to come to Dorne. He plans to be here in six months' time."

Lily smiled widely, tears of joys forming in her eyes, "And what of my mother?"

"I'm sorry…" He didn't need to say more and those same tears that formed in happiness began to fall from her emerald eyes in sorrow. He held his mother as she cried for the second time in less than a year.

He let her sob against his shoulder as she slowly composed herself once again. She wiped at her eyes, "My mother was older than my father. I've feared her passing for many years now." She looked forlornly out the window, "I would have liked to see her one last time."

Harry had no comfort to offer beyond a small smile of understanding. Lily looked him in the eye then, "Everything you've done would lead me to believe you have a something in mind for the future, the near future if I were to guess."

He just smiled at her enigmatically, "You are aware of my desire to see the honor of our family name restored. I have just started taking my first steps toward seeing it done." Lily smirked, not the least bit surprised by his vague response.

Bidding his mother a goodnight, Harry grabbed his swords before leaving her room. But he didn't make straight for his own quarters, instead heading toward the maester's tower where he intended to send a raven.

* * *

The midmorning sun beat against the sand and dried grass around Harry as he reclined against the hard stone of a fluted pillar. His black sand steed trotted around happily, stopping every so often to come and drink from the pale of water Harry left there for the faithful beast.

Harry was alone save for his steed. Ashara was tempted to accompany him but he convinced her to remain at Starfall. He waited patiently, reading a book that hadn't been read in almost four centuries to pass the time.

The Valyrian book was the third that Harry had taken from his new trove; this one had proven to be the most gruesome.

The first detailed the history House Vaelerys, their sons and daughters and their great deeds and the dragons on whose backs they rode. If nothing else the book had driven home how just five centuries before hundreds of dragons darkened the sky. House Vaelerys alone possessed a score of the winged creatures before the Doom. _And the Seven Kingdoms bent the knee to just three. Had the Valyrians been inclined they could have come and taken Westeros before the fall._

He had found it odd that only a single dragon egg remained among their family treasures. But it was because the others had been born to new riders and no clutch came before the Doom. While interesting to know the history of a great house of Valyria, it didn't reveal any arcane secrets held only by the House of Vaelerys.

The second detailed the knowledge of one of the oldest families in Valyria regarding dragons. Five millennia's worth of dragon breeding, taming and riding. Though in those years, there was no exact science behind the birthing of dragons from their eggs. The thing about Harry had been most eager to learn from the book proved scarce. One egg might remain dormant for a century, even a millennia, while another would hatch within years. But fire and blood were used to see the dragons born, that much was clear.

The most dangerous dragons, wild like the beasts first found in the Fourteen Flames, would be subjected to arcane magic in the form of fire whips. They would lash at the beasts, conditioning them until they were deadly only to the enemies of the Freehold.

The dragon horns required blood of the dragon to survive; otherwise it would burn the caller to death from the inside. Its call could be heard from hundreds of leagues away to bring one of the dragons of the family home.

But it was this third book that spoke of the magics performed by the sorcerers of the Freehold. _An empire born of fire and blood, but in the end the fire took back what had been built._ Harrion had seen some terrible things, felt some agonizing things in his life and in Harry Potter's. Slavery, death, torture, he could still remember the pain of curses and the burn of poison running through his veins, but it seemed paltry compared to the means Valyria employed to build itself up.

There were instances where a blood sacrifice from the caster was required but in most cases the blood of another sufficed. _Why spill blood of the dragon when it isn't necessary?_ They killed scores a week in the mines of the Fourteen Flames, keeping the heat of the world at bay with their arcane sorceries. And when those slaves rose up in protest, frequently, they were beaten down by those same sorceries.

Their topless towers, made of that strong dragonstone, took the fire of dragons to fuse and strengthen but the blood of slaves to mold. _But when they first started, the person crafting the walls provided the blood and the magic._ That interested Harry. _I might not be able to fuse the stones without dragon fire, but I might be able to create blackstone._

There were a number of Valyrians who attempted to extend their lives by the sacrifice of others, but a thousand lives drained of life might buy another year. It was a price that they couldn't afford. _They wouldn't have been able to conquer or breed quickly enough to recoup the losses required._

There were things he was willing to attempt, other things that he doubted he would touch even in dire need. What he would test is whether blood sacrifice would strengthen his magic.

He had only scratched the surface of what the book had to offer. _And there are at least a dozen more on magic._ He wasn't sure if he would be able to stomach it all.

Harry's eyes snapped away from the pages when he heard the braying of a single horse as it came to enter the courtyard of the old holdfast. He stood in greeting as Prince Oberyn tied off his horse and looked around at the dilapidated ruins where he'd been asked to meet.

Shandystone had been abandoned eighty years prior when the well ran dry. It was twelve miles north of the Greenblood River between Godsgrace and Sunspear. Its walls, pillars, and lovely triple archways were once smooth and bright when they belonged to a lesser son of House Allyrion. Now they'd started to erode to the slow passage of time. The wall that surrounded the holdfast at chest-height began to crumble, whole portions having broken. The left portion of one of the triple archways collapsed and only half of the stones that surrounded the now empty well remained.

Oberyn approached with a roguish smile, "I can imagine only two reasons that you asked to me to come alone to a place like this, either you want to kill me or you want to fuck me. But I think you love me too much for the former and too little for the latter." He stared at Harry for a long moment before they both laughed and embraced, "I was surprised to hear that you did not travel to Duskendale after your return to Westeros." He commented as they moved to the shade.

News arrived just a week prior at Starfall that after half a year what men had taken to calling the Defiance of Duskendale came to a bloody end. The king was saved by Ser Barristan and in his rage he had the entirety of House Darklyn and Hollard executed save for Dontos Hollard. The boy was spared by the kindness of Ser Barristan alone. Lord Denys' wife suffered the worst. Many considered Lady Serala the instigator, and for her part in the whole affair, her tongue and womanly parts were torn from her body before she was burned alive. _And there are those who call the punishment kind._

The king granted the lands and titles of Duskendale to House Rykker. For a brief moment Harry had regretted not making the trip to the crownlands, knowing full well he would have been capable of entering the castle unseen. The thought quickly fled him though as he had no desire to gain a house and title by the death of every man, woman and child of another family.

"With the likes of Ser Arthur and Ser Barristan there, I didn't think my presence would be missed." Harry replied as they moved into the holdfast. A snake hissed in the dusty corner but otherwise left them alone.

"So tell me why I've spent the last two days traveling to this place." Oberyn commanded as he sat, grabbing at the flagon of wine Harry left on the table and pouring into a wooden cup.

Harry sat across from the prince, "I want this place for my own. I wish to rebuild it."

Oberyn chuckled good-naturedly, "Rebuild it all you like, it will not make water fill that well." He leaned forward, "You want to be a landed-knight, I am sure, so that someday you might call yourself a lord. And then you could be more than a bed-warmer to Ashara."

Harry pursed his lips, knowing it was only Oberyn's nature to be so biting even to his friends "If I have your guarantee that this place will belong to me that well will be filled to the brim with water by the end of the day."

"How would you manage such a thing?"

He had the prince curious now which boded well for him. _He spent years wandering Essos for the sake of curiosity and a desire to see more._ "Agree to my proposal, and you will see with your own eyes."

Oberyn rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "I am a prince of Dorne but I am not the ruling prince. Doran would have to make such a thing official. And it is unlikely to make the Allyrions happy. Time may have passed, but this place was once theirs."

"If it would make the decision easier for him, I would be willing to pay 500 dragons for it."

"You must be joking? For this place? You must be truly desperate to get between Ashara's legs?" He guffawed loudly, "For that sum, Doran might be willing to give you a title along with the holdfast."

"For now the holdfast will be enough." Oberyn clearly had not expected this sort of conversation when arriving here but eventually he nodded.

"You have the sum with you?"

"I do."

"Doran will give you the land for that price. And I doubt the Allyrions will be able to begrudge him the fact." He assured Harry, "Now show me what you promised."

Smiling he stood and walked from the room and out to the well, Oberyn close on his heels. The last time such a thing had been performed in Dorne hundreds of Nymeria's water witches banded together to see it done. But he wasn't bringing water and bloom to the entire desert, just this single well.

Closing his eyes, Harry focused on the movements and the right mental state. His hands began weaving through the air and as he did he could feel veins of water, deep below and far away falling to his command. He could feel the strain as they slowly seeped into the large cave below.

For long minutes Harry continued as water filled the well once again. When he finally finished, he could see his own reflection in the surface of the water as it wet the sand where the wall was missing. Flexing unconsciously, he wiped the sweat from his brow and resisted the natural urge to react to the strain his body had just endured.

He could feel Oberyn's eyes boring into the side of his head and just smiled cheekily, "Well, it's been filled to the brim well before the end of the day."

"I have seen a great many things Harry, even those capable of magic." The prince didn't appear entirely sure how to react, "I did not think **you** capable of such things, much less lost Rhoynar water magic." Harry quirked an eyebrow, "I read the book gifted to my mother by Lord Ulric." Oberyn said a little defensively.

"You've seen enough of the world to know that things most men think impossible usually aren't." Harry remarked calmly.

Oberyn snorted a laugh, "Very true." He watched as Harry approached his bags and retrieved a large pouch of coins.

"I can expect a raven confirming my ownership of this place then?"

"Of course, I am a man of my word. And one who knows how to keep a secret as well." He looked to Harry meaningfully, a silent promise in those words. It occurred to Harry that he could try and take the memory from Oberyn or even alter it, but he couldn't bring himself to do that to a friend. To somebody he trusted. It was always a risk revealing his magic to somebody new, but if there was anybody beyond Ashara he trusted to accept it and remain quiet on the matter it was the roguish prince.

"Somehow I doubt this is the only secret you have, Harry." Oberyn commented with a smile, "And someday maybe I'll get to hear them all." _Unlikely, but you will hear a few more when the time is right._

The two men talked until just after midday. In that time Oberyn told Harry of a rumor he heard out of Essos. A rumor that someone braved the Freehold and survived.

* * *

AN: So there you go, the next chapter. This was some wrap up on the last chapter and setting up quite a bit for the future.

For those who are wondering it is now the middle 277 AC and the tourney at Harrenhal takes place in 281 AC. Depending on what exactly I write that is probably five chapters away. I have plans for Harry to have a conversation with Tywin, the tourney of Storm's End, Garth Tyrell, the Kingswood Brotherhood among other things. Depending on how much I add in between, it could take more than five chapters but that is what I am figuring right now.

Until next time.


	11. Chapter 11

AN: Just want to say thank you as always for your reviews. I believe I responded to all questions, but if not I apologize. As for the guest reviews...

applebe: You can see what happens with his new keep in this chapter.

coldblue:1) Lady Stoneheart and Shae won't play a part in the story. As for Gregor, it is possible. 5) No, definitely not. 8) I haven't considered it.

2&3&4&6&7&9&10) You'll have to read to find out.

reader: Last I checked blackstone is magical in nature, painting it white really shouldn't be necessary. Harrold isn't a fool, he will claim retirement.

Guest: At the end of chapter ten Harry is sixteen. Ashara is fifteen going on sixteen, about eight months younger than Harry. Arthur is twenty-two, about five and a half years older than Harry. Ulric is sixty-six, Larra is quite a bit younger at forty-six. Reynard died at the age of forty-seven. Lily is forty. Robert and Ned are fourteen, though Robert is nearly fifteen. Rhaegar is seventeen, nearly eighteen.

* * *

Harry drank deeply from his skin of water and wiped the sweat from his brow. Even in autumn, Dorne's blistering sun made the work all the more difficult but he and his workers carried on all the same. It was a different sort of toil from what he'd grown accustomed to in the yard, and he didn't have the same sort of talent for it but the workers appreciated the extra pair of hands.

In the eight months since Shandystone had officially become his, after he bent down on his knee and swore his oaths, he spent a great deal of time and effort making it into something worthwhile. Two dozen builders and half a dozen carpenters had been commissioned to see the walls replaced and keep restored. They worked in shifts, half during the day and half in the night. The stone and marble necessary for the endeavor came from a quarry in the Red Mountains, while the wood came from the Crownlands.

Their tireless work was beginning to bear fruit. The entire exterior of the holdfast was fully restored while the animals that once called the interior home had been removed. New tile was completed on the ground floor and new furnishings were being built by the carpenters. The smithy, storehouse and well were completed while the construction of the stables and armory were underway. The once chest-high wall was entirely gone. In its place, more than three-quarters finished, was a wall three men tall that reflected a shiny dark grey, nearly black, in the bright sunlight yet they were quite coll to the touch.

When workers arrived they marveled at the color, texture, shape and shine of the stone. Of course they were entirely unaware that their employer worked alone to shape each piece of stone with magic so they fit together as easily as matching puzzle pieces.

The Valyrian technique proved exhausting and at times painful. Given his refusal to spend another's blood for the process he used his own to power the spells. There was something exhilarating in it though, as magic seemed to come easier in those moments. The rest of the process involved heating the rock and then manipulating the stone like clay. It was odd taking something usually unyielding and feeling it bend beneath his fingers.

"Harrion," Mors called out to him from above, "a rider is approaching." The foreman of the builders was a big, pot-bellied and balding man with a big beard but strong as an ox. Harry put it down to the man's influence that the work was being finished at such an impressive pace.

"Thank you, Mors." Harry responded, "Send them to the keep." The big man nodded as Harry turned toward the keep, grabbing his shirt from where it lay across a stone. He made his way to a water basin and splashed his face before drying himself and throwing his shirt over his head. He waited patiently as he heard the whiny of a horse in the courtyard.

Oberyn entered with a smile, embracing Harry, "My friend, things seem to be coming along nicely." He surveyed the room around him, "You really must rename this place. Shandystone simply doesn't suit it any longer."

"They are and you're right I must." Harry agreed as he filled a cup with wine and offered it to the prince, "I am surprised to see you though. Is this a friendly visit or do you have news for me that simply must be told in person? Or maybe you are just checking up on me?"

"Just a visit, no ulterior motive involved." He said hands raised, "After so long spent traveling, I still have moments when I grow restless," Oberyn admitted, "and I was curious to see for myself what you had managed here. Ashara has told us as much as you've told her, but only so much can be conveyed in hastily written letters once a month."

Ashara currently lived at Sunspear as a companion to Elia. The princess requested her presence less than a month after Harry's departure to start rebuilding Shandystone.

"I doubt you have heard the news," Oberyn started as he sat down, throwing his feet up on a nearby table, "But Steffon Baratheon died along with his wife and a hundred men. They were returning from Essos when a storm caught the _Windproud_ in Shipbreaker Bay."

Harry had heard of Lord Steffon's journey and while surprised to hear of his death, he was well aware tragedy could happen on roiling seas. The Lord of Storm's End had been sent to the east to find a suitable bride of Valyrian ancestry for Rhaegar, but all that Steffon was able to find was a fool named Patchface. _Though, that wasn't his only purpose in the east._

Nesio sent a message by way of Ashara. The swordsman was in Lys during Steffon's visit to the Free City. He was keenly interested in learning the truth behind the rumors of the people who braved the Freehold at Aerys' behest.

And from what his old teacher said, the King certainly wasn't the only one interested in the goings-on in Valyria. The Red Priests had begun giving sermons about the growing fires around the Doom, claiming that a second cataclysm was coming. While Nesio was in Volantis, a representative from the Undying of Qarth visited in search of answers from the Old Blood and while in Tyrosh, a shadow-binder from Asshai arrived and questioned the people of the city about what they knew. And Nesio reported it all, as often as he was able. _In truth, I did not expect it to garner this much attention. But then I also didn't think Valyria would seemingly come alive with fire again._

"I imagine the king was displeased?" Harry asked, pulling himself from his thoughts. The entire kingdom knew that Aerys wished to replace Tywin as Hand. _His paranoia grows ever worse according to rumor._

Oberyn nodded, "From what my uncle says, Aerys is under the impression that Tywin somehow arranged the whole thing to remove the threat to his position as Hand." He scoffed derisively, "Tywin is capable of many things but I don't believe he can control the weather."

"No, I don't suppose he can't." Harry agreed absently, thinking back on his own father's death. _The storm didn't necessarily kill Steffon._ "Were their bodies recovered?"

"They were found among debris on the shore once the storm subsided." Oberyn told him, "Robert has had them buried, and there is talk that he might hold a tourney in their honor."

"Lord Steffen hosted a tourney before his departure. I doubt Robert has the means to do it again so soon." Harry chuckled lowly, "Though he loves them well enough that he might be willing to ignore good sense."

The prince barked a laugh, "That is certainly true." He eyed Harry critically, "Your absence from them has been noted of late. Rhaegar asked after you in Maidenpool. I believe he intends to journey here soon should the need arise. Robert lamented that he has had no opportunity to best you in another melee at the tourney for Prince Viserys' name day.

"I have pressing concerns here. I would see this place built with my own eyes and aid in it with my own hands."

Oberyn raised one dark eyebrow at that, "Admirable but surely you are growing pressed for coin. This cannot be a cheap venture and your skill at arms would surely see more coins in your pockets. Though then again you might have means I am entirely unaware of." He looked thoughtful for a moment, skeptical even, before speaking again, "But I digress, Gregor Clegane looks for you at every tourney since Lannisport." He smiled wolfishly, "Arthur told me of what happened there. Did you know that the giant walks with a limp because of what you did to him? It's made him slower than he was and I think he wishes to separate your head from your shoulders because of it."

Harry frowned at that, "That is good to know. Feral dogs can be dangerous."

"They can," Oberyn agreed, "Just last month there was word of the Smiling Knight harrying travelers along the Rose Road."

"There is a truly feral dog. He will need to be dealt with sooner or later."

"That he will but for now he is the concern of the Tyrells." The mention of the Tyrells brought a scowl to Harry's face as his mind drifted to Garth but he quickly banished those dark thoughts.

"Any word from Ashara?"

Oberyn chuckled lightly, "Of course…" They continued speaking through most of the night of family and politics among other things. The prince stayed for two days and leant his strength in laying stones, when he departed he made his way further west to Oldtown. He meant to retrieve something he had left behind in the city years before.

* * *

Elia and Ashara watched as Mellaria played with little Arianne in the Water Gardens. The Norvosi noblewoman had dark hair that sat in a mass atop her head, her dark eyes were alight with mirth as her daughter enjoyed the waters. The woman did not enjoy every Dornish custom but she certainly had come to appreciate the beaches, fountains and pools of the place Maron Martell built for his Targaryen bride so many years before.

Nearby the newly arrived Obara Sand jabbed with a stick. Oberyn brought her back with him upon his return from Oldtown. The little girl was not a pretty thing with mousey brown hair and a pinched face but she had her father's fire, "She wishes to be my brother's equal with a spear and she is only eight years old." Elia commented gaily as she followed Ashara's gaze.

"I would say that she wants to be better," Ashara countered kindly, "And she may just manage it. If I can be a better archer than the Sword of the Morning and Ser Harry of Blackstone, surely Obara can be more dangerous with a spear than the Red Viper." She spoke with a fondness for her brother and Harry that she couldn't hide. In more than a year she had only seen her brother a handful of times at tourney. And she had only visited Harry twice.

There was peace and contentment in Sunspear where she spent her time doing little but reading, riding, and when she was given any long period of time alone, copying a number of the books they'd found in Valyria into the common tongue. But there was a part that sorely missed the adventure they could get up to together. _Things were never dull with him, that much is certain._ But more than that, she simply missed his company. It was hard to concede that she would be of little use to him in the rebuilding of his new holdings but in the end he had won that argument with little trouble.

"Ah, Harry seems to be on many mind these days," Elia commented with a knowing smile, "Doran told me just the other day that Lady Allyrion has begun bleating about the lands he now owns."

Ashara's visage soured at that, "Funny, she had no complaints when a hundred dragons found their way into her treasury when Harry requested the land."

Elia merely smiled indulgently, "Yes but at that time she thought it little more than a joke. Dragons acquired in exchange for nothing. But instead the land grows richer by the day." She leaned back in her chair, her dark eyes laughing, "Tongues wag often of the oasis that has grown where once there was a ruin. I cannot imagine what he has done that has turned the desert into workable lands."

"Yes soon it will become a town and one where trade might flourish." Ashara said softly, eliciting a furrowed brow from the princess, "He has expressed an interest in employing men to create a new arm of the Greenblood."

"That would be no small task." Elia said slightly taken aback, "I doubt he has the means to accomplish such a thing."

 _Oh you would be surprised._ "For the time being, I believe you would be right. But it is something he is considering for the future." She knew that should he want to see it done he could, his magic making it all the easier.

"Is that all he is considering of the future?" Elia asked feigning innocence.

Ashara groaned internally at the older woman's obviousness, "Harry has made his intentions regarding me clear on more than one occasion and nothing has changed with that regard. A landed knight is not an appropriate suitor for a noble lady."

"Your father would be foolish to consider such things at this point." Elia spoke sharply, catching Ashara off-guard, "Harry had nothing but now he has a holdfast of his own and it is quickly growing. His fame and wealth are greater than a number of noble lords. He is skilled in arms, intelligent and fair to look at. And had he been of the mind to ask for it, he would already have a title. Oberyn was tempted to broach the subject with Doran without prompting and had Harry actually asked him to do so I doubt Oberyn would have let the matter lie until our brother agreed." The usually quiet, good-natured princess only grew more impassioned as she continued. And there was a knowing light in her eyes.

Ashara didn't know what to make of the older woman's reaction, "You have always been… supportive of my feelings for Harry in the past but never quite so vehemently outspoken about what should be done."

Elia frowned in thought, "As I said tongues wag. Janna Tyrell questioned me in great detail when she found me alone at the tourney at Blackhaven two months ago." She raised a hand to quiet any interruption, "While Arthur tells me that Cersei Lannister asked after him while at court, as did her lady-in-waiting, Melara Hetherspoon." She paused and looked Ashara square in the eye, "So while Harry does what he thinks is necessary to win your hand, and your father worries over his current station, there are others who are less concerned."

"Lord Tywin would never allow his golden daughter to wed anyone of such low stock, especially given his reputation among the Dornish." Ashara countered a bit stiffly. This news caught her off guard. She saw Harry's worth plainly and she wasn't surprised that others did as well, but she thought that news of a landed knight in Dorne would have been below the notice of the likes of the Tyrells or Lannisters.

"And Melara is the daughter of a landed knight in her own right. Harry could easily refuse any offers without causing offense." She finished more firmly, even as she tried forming an argument against Janna. But it was futile, she knew more of that story than Elia. She knew full well of the friendship between the Queen of Thorns and Lily, not to mention the attention she paid Harry when they were in the same place. _And there is both Harry and Lily's belief that Olenna helped to divert Terrence and his ilk to the east._

"I agree with regards to both Cersei and Melara, but that still leaves Janna. She is beautiful and buxom, but more importantly she has her mother's mind. And given their station, Harry would be hard pressed to deny them if they were to press the issue." Elia played the tip of her plaited hair absently, "And there is always you to worry about as well."

"The king alone would be able to 'convince' my father of a betrothal I don't desire," Ashara said calmly, even if there was a seed of concern somewhere deep in her mind. "And Aerys worries far more over the next plot against him then he does about Rhaegar's wife."

"There is a hint of truth to that claim but at the same time Aerys sent Steffon Baratheon to Essos in search of a suitable bride. Your mother is a Velaryon and while that might be beneath his notice it may not be beneath your uncle's." Fortunately, her Uncle Lucerys was not overly ambitious and would not risk his sister's ire. Particularly as any betrothal would prove far more beneficial to House Dayne than Velaryon. _But should Aerys learn of my presence in Valyria his tune might change._

It was for that very reason Harry intended for them to be betrothed, or preferably wed, before the truth of their involvement came about. _I would be fine with my name being forgotten entirely in the story, and with what Nesio has done in Essos that may prove possible._

"You have a closer Targaryen relative than I do." Ashara pointed out archly, "And you are a princess of Dorne."

Elia only shrugged at that, "Rhaegar is pleasant enough, and he is a good friend. I would not be terribly displeased by such a match."

Ashara chuckled earning a scowl from her friend, "Most of the woman in the kingdoms would be far more excited at the prospect of such a match." _Of course she would much rather my brother than Rhaegar but that is impossible. Friendship certainly seems preferable given her position. Some women certainly aren't so lucky._

"Yes, well most woman see only the handsome prince, resplendent atop his horse in tourneys as he knocks many a skilled knight from their horses. They don't know that he is prone to melancholy and quietness." She smirked slightly, "And I've never been quite as fond of the harp as other women."

Ashara laughed along with her friend even as she made plans to send a letter to her father and Harry. She knew that a betrothal would not deter the truly determined but she would deal with such things as they came. Olenna wasn't the only mother who taught her daughter how to play such games.

* * *

Harrion twitched in his sleep. At times a soft noise would emanate from deep in his throat but he did not wake. The dreams that plagued his sleep continued as always though more fitful in recent years than they ever had been in his youth. Through his own trials he had also seen Harry Potter's.

The death of Cedric and Sirius and even his own parents clearly sat heavy on his counterparts mind. _Misfortune seems to follow us. But I would certainly take my own lot in life over his most days. At least I had my parents there to raise me._ Despite the magic learned, it was Harrion's opinion that the greatest boons this second life had granted were experience and perspective.

Unable to stop any of it, he was forced to suffer through the likes of Tom Riddle and Umbridge. _I would have loved to open up that frog woman at the throat._ And Harrion raged internally as he was ignored about the machinations that took place during his sixth year, even if he had come to find out that Dumbledore was aware of it all. _The old man meant well, but he could have saved people a great deal of trouble by including them in his thinking._

But now it seemed that whether things were to end in success or failure, they would come to an end. The fitful sleep might finally end as this wizarding war reached its conclusion.

In his mind he was marching through the Forbidden Forest knowing full well what he would find at his destination. When he found the clearing, he could only wait. With a flash of green, the spell leapt from the bastard's wand and hit him square in the chest.

In the waking world, Harrion's back contorted painfully, a number of joints cracking but he did not make a noise before falling back to the bed with a thud. And then there was peace and a white, shining representation of King's Cross station. The whimpering, shriveled remains of what the snake-faced murderer had left of his body sat beneath a bench.

Sitting further on down the station was an old man dressed in simple clothes, grey-haired and watching him with seemingly unseeing eyes. They sent a shiver up Harrion's spine, as did the voice that emanated from his mouth. It was not male or female, old or young, deep or high, but all of those things at once and it reverberated through the room and through the entire station and right down to his core, "Good of you to join me, Harry Potter. There are others who wished to meet you here, your headmaster, your mother, your father, your godfather but I wished to see you personally. I have been with you far more often than most."

Harry approached slowly, "And you are?" He had his suspicions but he wanted to know for certain.

"I've had so many names, so many faces given to me by people, in so many places and times all who wish to give form to a thing that they fear: Azrael, Thanatos, Hel, Stranger, the Lion of Night." And before Harry's eyes, his skin darkened, his hair receded and he turned from tall and old, to young and hail. "But they do not give me form nor name, in the end most simply call me Death." He stared Harry straight in the eye, and for the very first time, Harrion felt like someone in his dreams could see them both, "You weren't afraid of meeting your end, a rare thing particularly in one so young."

"Everything must seem young to your perspective," Harry quipped as he sat down beside the ancient force sitting there like any other person. It smiled as Harry continued, "I wasn't afraid because it was the only way to make him mortal. It was the only way that Ginny, Hermione, Ron, all of the people that I care about might be able to see an end to it."

"Hmmm, bravery and selflessness, quite the honorable qualities." Death noted, its voice was that of every soul ever ferried along, "You did not think you would live? Even having found the relics of the Peverell brothers?"

"Stories aren't always true. And the belief that joining them makes the owner master of death is just that… a belief. No one has ever managed it before to know for sure."

"Too true." Death agreed, looking him up and down briefly, considering him, "I do not take special interest in the lives of individual people. All things have their end in time, and for something like me centuries feel like a moment. The brothers were talented, their relics powerful, but they could not hope to master me, let alone cheat me."

Harry shrugged slightly, "I thought not."

"Your headmaster thought Tom Riddle might have created a tie to the living world for you by using your blood in his resurrection." Death explained, "But it will not be enough. It might please you to know that your death shall weaken him far more than he could have expected. It seems to be Tom Riddle's habit to overlook older magics."

"And I take it the Horcrux in my head will not be enough to save my soul from the killing curse." Harry spoke up, realizing why Death was discussing these things, "So I am dead then."

"Yes, you are dead." There was no gloating in the figures voice, nor remorse just finality, "You may choose to go on should you like."

"I will see my parents again?" The prospect of being with those he had lost making the idea easier.

"Perhaps," Death answered, leaving Harry bewildered, "I know nothing of what comes after, good or bad. It might be family and peace or the void, I am unknowing. All I know is that I take the dead to their rest."

"Well that is certainly reassuring." Harry sniped sarcastically.

"I am not here to reassure you," Came Death's apathetic reply, "I am just here to take you but given your unique situation there is another possibility." Harry just waited patiently for an explanation, "Fate was unkind to you in this life, so you might live another in a different place and time. The essence of who you are shall remain the same, the magic that is a part of you shall go with you, as shall the memories of this life but you will have a new opportunity at life."

"There are no guarantees either way are there?" Harry questioned, and Death merely shook his head. He was silent for a long time, entirely unsure of what to do. There was a chance that he could live a happy life with a proper family or he might suffer through the same miserable childhood he had with the Durselys.

They fell into a serene silence that could have lasted for a minute or a year, it was hard to tell given the nature of the place. Death did not hum, did not fidget, did not even breath, it just sat there a reminder of the decision that needed to be made.

In the end it came down to certainty. Passing on provided no guarantees. Should he allow death to take him, he might spend eternity in the companies of those he lost but then he might spend eternity alone in darkness. But choosing life was a guarantee of opportunity if nothing else, "I would like to live again." Death turned to look at him and reached out a hand. As his fingers gripped his shoulder, Harry's entire body seized and he felt fire run through his body as he fell into nothing.

As he shot awake the last thing that Harrion remembered was the faintest of baby's cry. The sun shone brightly inside of his quarters, as he stretched his sore and tired muscles. _Sleep ought to be refreshing not as draining as the yard._

He swung his legs over the side of his bed and shielded his eyes from the bright sunlight as it filtered into the room and reflected off the glass candle sitting in the corner. The twisted pillar of obsidian still refused to light but then the books discussed only how to use the constructs not how to light them. He sacrificed a bit of his own blood in attempt but it had yielded nothing, He reached the conclusion that he just didn't have enough magic on his own to see it set aflame. It remained as dormant as the dragon egg that sat hidden amongst his other wealth. _But I am patient, and with enough time and effort I will see both done._

It was only as he wiped the sleep from his eyes that he noticed he was not alone in the room. _It would appear that I've overslept._

His mother was standing just inside the doorway, looking concerned. Her once vibrant red hair was beginning to grey and lines were beginning to form on her face but she was still fair to look upon. She walked to his side and ran a hand through his sweaty hair, "One of your dreams I take it."

He smiled at her weakly, patting her knee, "Yes, but no need to worry mother. I have become accustomed to them after all the years." _It will be interesting having a night's sleep completely free of them._

"Very well," She pushed him off the bed with a chuckle as he tumbled in a heap, "You have slept longer than you ought to and you have important visitors." He stuck his tongue out her impetuously which she ignored. Without a maester at Blackstone, his mother oversaw much of the day to day goings on around his new home.

A few short minutes later he made his way down to the hall of his keep. The appearance of Harrys land and home would be hard to reconcile with anyone who had seen Shandystone. It was clean and gleaming, the bark of hounds and the whiney of horses could be heard from outside, as could the ring of hammer on anvil from the smithy within the walls. His grandfather's reputation was well earned, and since his arrival he'd been working daily sometimes at tasks set to him specifically by Harry and at others dealing with the needs of the holdfast.

"Morning, m'lord," Greeted one of his new household guard as he came to stand in his hall. His name was Finn and he was of an age with Harry. Not particularly tall but long-limbed and stronger than he looked. And in the yard he was fast, if unpolished. _But there is potential, and plenty of loyalty to go along with it._ All of his new guards were lowborn, and young but bright with plenty of potential in the yard if no real skill yet. Harry felt that old hedge knights, the sort that had come to offer their service, had nothing new to learn and were only as loyal as the coin in their pockets. He sought another way of doing things than the conventional.

Without a master-at-arms, Harry could only train them with whatever time he could spare and that was not always in abundance. _I shall rectify that soon enough._ But that didn't dampen their excitement for the sword, and it made them all the more productive when they found themselves helping to build the infrastructure around Blackstone.

"Is it still morning?" Harry asked cheerily, "I thought I must have surely slept past it today. I can be such a lazy arse sometimes." Finn chuckled, knowing full well that nobody who'd seen Harry around Blackstone would think to call him lazy. His new guards respected him in a way he wasn't entirely accustomed too. Today though he felt older, and slightly more at home with their admiration. _Maybe that can happen when you witness a conversation with Death._

"Perhaps I named you a knight to soon, Harry, if you're already waiting till noon to pull yourself from bed. I can remember the days when you were up at dawn with sword in hand." Arthur stood there looking serious, his indigo eyes conveying severe displeasure. Finn could only stare in stunned silence at the unexpected presence of a Kingsguard.

It was the first that Harry had seen his friend since he left Starfall for Volantis two years prior. The white enameled armor and pure white cloak fit him as though he was born to it. _Just as we always expected._ The silver fastening on his armor shined with the tell-tale sign of being well-kept. The only other color on him was a strip of purple fabric wrapped just above his elbow. Where other Kingsguard would wear decorative brooches or gaudy helms that harkened back to their family names, Arthur was not the sort.

Suddenly the frown evaporated into a smile, and Arthur pulled him into a tight hug "It has been too long. I seem to hear news of you from others but never see the man in the flesh." He pushed away and appraised him, "You've grown taller since last I saw you." It was true, Harry realized idly. He now stood only an inch shorter than Arthur.

They chuckled at that, "This place has demanded a great deal of my attention. Trust me when I say it wasn't exactly anything to look at when it first became mine."

A new voice spoke from the doorway, regal as ever, "But it certainly is now. At the rate this place grows there shall be a new Oldtown here within a decade." Prince Rhaegar wore a loose red shirt and carried a harp. It stood in stark contrast to the sword that sat upon his hip.

"Welcome, your Grace. I did not expect that you would take the time to come visit me."

"I meant to sooner but there were matters at court that demanded **my** attention. Prince Oberyn told me he had warned you I might choose to visit."

"He did but that was half a year ago." A servant came in bearing a midday meal. As they sat Harry asked, "You visited the growing town then?"

Rhaegar smiled softly, "Yes, your servant, Lily, was kind enough to escort me." Arthur and Harry shared a brief look of amusement at that but didn't comment, "She left me when I sat down by a hill where a number of the children were gathered." Harry was sure the children stopped their play to listen to the Prince play.

Rhaegar ate a piece of meat from his plate before turning to Harry, "What caused you to rise so late? I have never known you as one to drink in excess, nor do the people of this place speak of you in such ways."

"I had a restless sleep," Harry explained, "I was plagued by discomforting dreams but found myself unable to wake."

Rhaegar's brow furrowed in interest. He placed his knife and fork down and leaned closer, "Interesting, what did the dream involve?"

Not expecting to be asked to elaborate on something so personal, Harry sputtered for a moment before settling on a half-truth, "I revisited old memories of difficult times. Such things sit heavy on mind my occasionally when I realize how far removed I am from that time."

Rhaegar hummed his understanding, but still seemed to be searching for the truth of it in Harry's eyes, "I often find myself beset by dreams, but they are often of the future." His gaze grew hazy as he thought back, "There are times when I dream of bitter nights and blazing fires." With the Prince, there was always a chance that he might fall into some melancholy. But at the same time, Harry was very much aware that it was rare for Rhaegar to discuss such things.

Harry could tell by looking at Arthur that this was not the first he had heard of such things. Rhaegar's eyes cleared , and he smiled sadly, "There was once a time where I dreamed of a red lion attacked by two massive, vicious hounds. The lion wounded the beasts terribly, left their legs useless but a third struck it from behind and pulled out its throat."

Even Arthur seemed surprised by this admission, "You've never spoken of that before, your Grace. When did that happen?"

"After the first night of the tourney at Lannisport." He answered without thought. Rhaegar seemed entirely unaware of the unease he was causing Harry, "I recall seeing that medallion." He pointed to the golden chain that still hung around Harry's neck, a reminder of his father and the rest of their family, "And then after your defeat of Gregor Clegane, and the manner in which you did so, I grew concerned. The Mountain is prone to violence particularly when defeated." He looked to Arthur curiously, "Did you never wonder why I urged you from the city so hastily after the tourney?"

"I wondered often, but thought it rude to ask."

"Your concern is greatly appreciated," Harry added solemnly, a pit in his stomach. _The Targaryens have always been able to see things to come. Their family would have perished in the Doom if not for Daenys the Dreamer. But it is troubling to think of what Gregor was willing to do in defeat._ It left Harry with something to consider the next time he met the Mountain. _I should have simply stuck my dagger through his eye when I had the chance._

Rhaegar waved a hand, "Your appreciation is not needed. My concerned was likely misplaced. And besides, you are one of my closest friends, and I would not see harm come to you if I could avoid it."

"Thank you, your Grace." Harry offered genuinely, "So I doubt that I alone brought you to Dorne?"

"You are correct. Arthur did not give voice to the inclination but I am aware that he wished to see his family. We shall visit Starfall next before traveling back to the capital."

"We already visited Sunspear." Arthur put in with apparent calm but Harry could see the tightness in his eyes and hear a twinge of irritation in his voice, "Ashara sends her regards."

Rhaegar continued, "But our time in Sunspear also gave me an opportunity to inform Prince Doran in person that my father accepted his proposal of marriage between myself and Elia." He did not seem overly enthused by the prospect but nor did he seem to dread it.

"Ah, my congratulations." Harry knew what truly bothered Arthur now. Elia was likely the only woman that might have dissuaded him from putting on a white cloak. He was also well aware that she would someday wed, but he could only imagine that he would prefer somebody- anybody- other than Rhaegar. Now instead of Elia being out of sight and out of mind, he would be forced to see her often and with his closest friend.

"Thank you, I shall expect you at our wedding in three months' time." Rhaegar informed him highly, "Elia would be disappointed by your absence, as would Ashara." Harry chuckled in agreement to that. He saw her rarely of late but the letters passed between them often enough, which had only been made easier once Harry's request at the Citadel for ravens was answered, they seemed peeved that he had no interest in a maester to arrive along with them though, "And two years is long enough to go without appearing beyond these walls."

"I believe that I will be able to pull myself away long enough to make the journey." Harry conceded without any argument which earned a small smile from Rhaegar. _In fact, it may provide an opportunity._

As they finished eating, Harry stood and told his guests he would return shortly. When he returned he carried a small leather-bound book, and offered it to Rhaegar, "I imagine this is already in your library at King's Landing," It was a lie, but that wasn't important, "but I acquired this in Volantis. It is in pristine condition and details the members of some of the Great Houses of Valyria. Consider it an early wedding present." It was a copy written in High Valyrian by Ashara at Harry's request, "I would have given it to you sooner but…" He realized that Rhaegar stopped listening entirely, too engrossed by the book.

Arthur leaned toward Harry, "He will be occupied for some time now," he patted him on the shoulder, "We should go to the yard, I wish to know if two years of disuse have left your sword skills lacking."

"With your leave, your Grace." Harry said keen to take up the challenge, even if he still was likely to struggle against the Sword of the Morning.

"Of course, I would join you but…" He made a vague motion with the book in his hands. With that they made their way out into the yard. It did not take long for them to draw a crowd and Arthur found that Harry had not, in fact, grown worse from disuse.

* * *

The crowd watched on as Elia made her way through the Sept of Baelor to where Rhaegar awaited her. She was clad all in white, save for the cloak draped across her shoulders. Her long dress hugged gently to the subtle curve of her hip. In her hair were amber jewels that made her eyes shine, adding to her simple beauty.

Rhaegar awaited her dressed in the red and black of his house, an unadorned circle of gold sat upon his brow. Five of the Kingsguard stood watch around the room as silent sentinels, Arthur closest to his friend. All seven would have been present but Aerys refused to come, or to allow Viserys to be present, for fear of a possible assassination. People whispered of his paranoia, and of the ever growing tensions between the king and his heir. Still Queen Rhaella stood to the front looking proud and happy. Just beside her, an austere Lord Tywin stood in stark contrast.

While outside a throng of smallfolk watched the festivities with glee, within southern lords and ladies, many from Dorne and the Crownlands, lined the walls watching in silence as the Septon droned on about the Mother, and the Father, and duty, and all manner of other inanities for some time until finally Rhaegar removed the Martell cloak and replaced it with a Targaryen one. Cheers rang out throughout the city, not just in the sept.

With a new winter chill in the air, the wedding festivities were held within the Red Keep. There were musicians, mummers, jugglers, fools and all other manner of performers within the vast halls. They performed as two dozen courses came and went over the passing of hours. The people of the city would see themselves treated to the abundant surplus.

Harry enjoyed it all from a distance, sat between Ser Tybolt Hetherspoon and Ser Symon Santagar, both landed knights with their daughters beside them.

Melara leaned around her father on occasion to smile in Harry's direction. The girl was still slender, and had grown quite tall. While not possessing the most eye-catching of figures, her freckled face was prettier than most and she still had a pleasant smile. And while she said nothing, there was a noticeable blush upon her cheeks.

As a lady in waiting to Elia, Ashara sat near to the wedding table with Arlan and Elinor. Their parents respectfully declined their invitation as Allyria suffered from a winter chill.

Ashara looked resplendent in a purple dress that drew the eye of many men within the hall. He smiled slightly at the silver, jeweled hair net within her dark locks and the snake bracelet upon her wrist. _She does so love my gifts._ And he returned the gesture, wearing a broach she had made bearing his sigil.

Cersei sat beside her father hiding whatever irritation she was feeling with surprising skill. In the two years since last he saw her she had begun to grow into a woman. Her crimson dress, laced in the front hugged her growing bosom, while her golden hair fell in delicate curls around her face.

Even from two tables away, Harry could make out the booming laugh of Robert Baratheon. The young lord had only grown taller and stronger in the past years. His dark hair was trimmed short, as was his neatly kept beard. His blue eyes were full of mirth as he joked and drew those around him in. _A man like that makes for easy company._

His younger brother, Stannis, sat grimly beside him finding no humor in his brother's good nature. _It would appear that Lord Steffon's last letter proved false, his new fool was unable to teach his son to smile. Understandable, I think he would have preferred his parents._

To Robert's other side was Jon Arryn. Grey haired and blue-eyed the Lord of the Eyrie was broad-shoulder even if he was dwarfed by Robert. A number of his teeth were missing but that did not deter him from eating heartily of the dishes laid out before him. Just beside Jon was his other ward, Eddard Stark.

The second son of Lord Rickard Stark did not frequent tourneys nearly as often as his friend and participated even less. He was shorter by a head than Robert, but had strong shoulders. He was neither a particularly handsome or ugly man. His grey eyes were soft as fog in their enjoyment at Robert's antics, while his dark hair moved loosely about his head. Eddard seemed the very vision of what one expected when thinking of a northerner.

When everyone was watered and fed, music began to emanate more loudly around the halls and the dancing began. Rhaegar danced with his new bride, followed by his mother while Elia fell to Oberyn who twirled her around with a smile.

As a number of the crowd began to find themselves drawn into the music Harry made his way toward Ashara, ignoring the looks sent his way by a number of ladies as he passed. He tapped her shoulder to gain her attention, "My lady, would you like to dance?"

Ashara smiled radiantly, "I'd be delighted, Ser Harry." With a quick word to Arlan and Elinor, he took her hand and fell into line with the other dancers. He was not the most skilled of dancers but he knew the steps well for each dance, from the line dances to the circle dances, and the partner dances as well. He was a fair bit better than Harry Potter had been at the Yule Ball to say the least. _Oh, how I sympathized with him then. And to be forced to do it in front of a crowd as well. At least I've been learning since I was five years old._

Where his skill at dancing was functional, Ashara was truly graceful. Her skirts whipped around her feet and her hair bounced against her shoulders as they moved together. Despite that, it demanded very little of her attention as she spoke quietly to him, "It is wonderful to see you. After twelve years spent with you day in and day out, it is still odd to be parted from you for so long."

They twirled and passed hands to the next partner before finding each other again a few moments later, "It is something I desire to put an end to." He smiled mischievously, "Things never seem quite as exciting without you around."

"I know," She replied thickly, "I often think the same thing of you."

He leaned close enough to ensure that only she could hear, speaking just against her ear "Fun as this is, it isn't exactly as exhilarating as braving the fires of Valyria."

"That is most certainly true." A soft noise came from the back of her throat at the feel of his breath against her skin, "So I take it you have plans for your time here?"

"With Rhaegar wed, it alleviates at least one of my concerns," He told her, "I hope to remove another before I leave the capital."

"I thought as much." Ashara said knowingly, "I've written to my father about us but he remains reluctant despite my best efforts. I even wrote to my mother to see if she was willing to help but she informed me that my father would not budge on the matter."

"He made his opinions quite clear to me once." She raised an eyebrow in question at that, "Before we left for Volantis, when he informed me you would be allowed to accompany me, he said that you deserved more than a sworn sword and that I should see that you had it."

"You are far more than a sworn sword." She retorted irritably, "You are a landed knight with men of your own, and a growing reputation among other things." He knew she meant their success in the Freehold.

"True, but clearly that isn't enough. As I see it, all that remains is a title of my own." They parted yet again as they traded partners briefly. Harry found himself holding a plump girl of House Florent who possessed a slightly upturned nose and red hair. She blushed almost the second she looked at him.

When they came back together Ashara looked thoughtful, "While he dallies over concerns of a title others will not!" She whispered harshly even as she looked over his shoulder to another part of the room, "Right this moment Janna looks at you with interest, as does Olenna. How long before she decides you are truly the person she desires to wed to her daughter? And should she come calling, how could you refuse given their name? Not to mention the aid she has offered in the past?"

The dance came to its close. During the applause the pair moved away from the crowd and as the next tune started up they found themselves a secluded alcove outside of the hall, "I can't control the actions of others Ash." _Well that might not be entirely true but…_ "I can only control my actions and hope that the result are enough to convince your father. And should Olenna make a request, I shall refuse her." _Dangerous as it might be._

"Even knowing you might need her aid to deal with Garth in the manner your mother desires?" Ashara snipped irritably before taking a deep breath, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be argumentative. I do understand, Harry, but I worry. You have been far removed from the intrigues of the world of late, but I haven't. And it seems you have the growing interest of many noble ladies." She leaned her head against his shoulder, "I don't expect to be married but a betrothal would do a good deal to ease my mind. It would force Janna to resort to… other means to get what she wants."

He kissed the side of her head softly, "You seem highly concerned about Janna?"

"She has been the most persistent." He frowned at that, "I have my ways of knowing, and Elia has aided me."

Harry hummed his understanding before grasping her hand in his, "Come, we shouldn't be away long. And I would not have us dwell on such things when we could be enjoying ourselves." She giggled and stepped in stride beside him.

They danced three more songs together before Arlan stepped in to share a dance with his sister. As Harry milled about with the other guests he heard his name called. He turned to see Robert sitting there with a serving girl in his lap and drink in his hand, he pushed the girl away with a playful slap and she only tittered loudly at this. Eddard seemed amused at his friend's brashness. The Lord of Storm's End opened his arms wide in greeting, "Ser Harry, I haven't seen you since you bested me in the melee at Lannisport. Gods that was good. You missed a good one there Ned."

The young Stark nodded indulgently, "So you've said Robert." His eyes shifted to Harry, "It is good to meet you, Ser. I hear that you beat this great lout in that melee, though the way he speaks of it you would think that he won."

Robert thumped Ned on the shoulder happily, who wasn't entirely listening to his friend, "Never! But it was down to just me, Harry and the White Bull. I wanted to beat the Lord Commander myself and turned my hammer to Harry, and he made me pay. A demon with two swords this one is."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Eddard. And Lord Robert, it is good to see you again. I was sorry to hear of your parents' passing." Harry finally interjected. He followed Ned's eyes to the dancing crowd and found them looking at Ashara and Oberyn as they turned about the floor. Realizing he was being scrutinized, Ned looked away with the barest hint of red in his cheeks.

The smile fell from Robert's face and Stannis nearby just scowled more deeply at his words, "Thank you, Harry. They were taken too soon." His smile returned then as he offered a cup, "Come share a drink with me in their memory." Accepting the drink, Harry clinked his goblet with Robert and drank deeply.

"If only there was a tourney being held in celebration of the wedding," Robert sounded thoroughly disappointed that there wasn't, "I could finally best you in the field." He gave a great booming laugh as he took another pull from his drink.

Harry made to reply but was interrupted as he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Janna Tyrell standing behind him with a soft smile on her full lips. The buxom young woman wore a dress of green and gold that accentuated the swell of her chest. Her long chestnut hair fell around her shoulder in tight curls, and it seemed to be littered with tiny golden flowers, "I do not mean to interrupt, but I hoped that you might dance with me, Ser Harry." Robert waved away the apology on Harry's behalf even as his eyes roamed up and down Janna lasciviously. _The man can't see a beautiful woman without showing… well let's call it appreciation._

"Of course, my lady, I would be happy to dance with you." As they reached the dance floor hand in hand, Harry couldn't help but realize Janna's hands were noticeably softer than Ashara's. _Probably because the only strings she's ever pulled at are harp-strings, not bowstrings._

The dance was a simple couple's dance, and Harry followed along to the best of his abilities not quite as comfortable with an uncommon partner. Still, Janna seemed pleased enough with his ability as her golden eyes never left him. She spoke, her voice light and airy, "I have missed seeing you at tourneys, Harry."

"So, I've heard." A little smirk played across her lips, no doubt expecting that word would reach him of her interest, "I traveled with Ashara in Essos for a time, and have been otherwise occupied since my return."

"Oh yes, I have heard. For some, you have become nearly as common to speak of as the rumor that someone, or many someones depending on the story you here, survived the Freehold." _Nesio has done a truly fantastic job of spreading rumors, he might have missed his calling. He could be a poet with the way he can weave stories._

Janna grinned up at him, "But then your story is quite the good one. A lowborn street urchin turned squire to a noble house and one of the finest knights in the realm, becomes a knight in his own right and acquire lands not just for the sake of appearances but to actually build them up." She squeezed his arm a bit more firmly where she held it, "I doubt that is where the story ends though, and I am sure that there is more to it than anyone really knows."

Olenna quite clearly shared his true heritage with her daughter, trusting her to keep the secret unless it might benefit her in some way, "I have ambitions that I mean to achieve, my Lady." That was all he had to say on the matter, quickly switching topics, "It might interest your mother to know that my tutor she is so fond of has traveled with me to Blackstone and that I would welcome her visit there."

"I will inform her." Janna responded dutifully. "Would I be welcome as well?"

He applied pressure on her lower back to steer around a clearly drunken lord who no longer had any business trying to dance. He swallowed a little uncomfortably, "You would, my lady. Though I admit that I am curious why you have taken such an interest in me."

She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, indicating her slight exasperation, "You are a bright man, Harry. Acting the oaf doesn't suit you."

"I have my suspicions but I would like to know the truth of it." Janna did not seem willing to budge, staring up at him defiantly.

He held her gaze until she finally relented with a resigned sigh, "You are, of course, aware of my mother's interest in you and some of the reasons behind it. She quite likes what she sees in you and so do I. You have ambition, a trait many men possess. But unlike most you are also intelligent enough to see your ambitions realized. You have the respect of other men thanks, at least in part, to your skill with a sword." A sultry little smirk formed on her lips, "And I can easily admit that I find you _very_ pleasant to look upon whether in silk or armor."

"The simple truth of it is that I have taken an interest in you because you are an interesting man." Janna spoke plainly, "My intentions shall remain my own. You must simply wonder." The dance came to a close a few short moments after. As they parted ways, she placed a soft kiss to his cheek that no one around them took notice of and she offered her thanks for the dance. As Janna walked away, Harry didn't notice that her eyes were fixed squarely on Ashara who stared right back.

There was no bedding ceremony that night. Rhaegar didn't have the disposition to allow such things. It was after the newlywed couple left for their quarters in Maegor's Holdfast that Harry came upon Cersei and Melara talking together conspiratorially away from the ever dwindling crowd of people. As he approached they both stopped to watch him, "It is good to see you both in such good health. Last I saw you I recall foul words that left such things in doubt."

Melara averted her gaze, blushing slightly, "Yes, thank you again, Ser Harry. We should never have gone there."

"No, we shouldn't have." Cersei agreed with a small scowl, "I still count us quite fortunate that you were there to intervene." She huffed a laugh, "You were only a squire then, and now you are a knight. My congratulations on your achievement."

"Thank you, Lady Cersei." He answered amiably, "Is your brother well?"

"Which one?"

"Both, I suppose." Harry successfully hid his satisfaction at her question. _It would seem my words left at least some small impression._

Cersei tilted her head slightly, "Our Uncle Gerion recently taught Tyrion how to tumble, and his last letter to me was rather enthusiastic as a result. He is often lonely at Casterly Rock, and tumbling gives him a pleasant distraction." Even if it lacked genuine affection, her voice held some measure of fondness for the younger brother she once hated so utterly. That changed as she spoke of her twin, "Jaime is now the squire of Lord Crakehall, along with Merrett Frey, though he would prefer if he were perhaps the squire of Ser Arthur, or even you." She frowned slightly, "I have not seen him since my father brought me to court."

They were interrupted at that moment by Lord Tywin, "Cersei, Melara the night has grown late. I believe that it is time that you return to your quarters." Both girls followed the Hand's command without question, even as he turned his attention to Harry, "Ser Harry, your knighthood was well earned, and from what I hear you have put it to good use." Tywin did not offer the congratulations that so many others had inundated him with over the course of the night. It was surprisingly refreshing.

"I do what I can, my Lord." Harry responded earnestly. Tywin nodded sharply and made to leave him but stopped as Harry spoke again, "There is a matter I wish to discuss with you before I return to Dorne, if you have the time of course." Two years before, Tywin would have denied such a request out of hand, but now Harry was a close friend of the Prince with a growing reputation. _That should at least give me an opportunity._

"You will come to the Tower of the Hand at midday tomorrow." After receiving Harry's acknowledgement, he left without further word.

Harry danced one last time with Ashara and escorted her back to her rooms. As they walked she asked nervously, "Lord Tywin agreed to meet with you?"

"He did."

"Do you think it shall go well?"

"I believe that it will." He responded confidently, for her sake if nothing else, "There is nothing to worry about, I assure you." She looked far from convinced, "Even if he doesn't like what I have to say, he won't do me any harm."

"I don't know why I seek your reassurances." She chuckled weakly, I will certainly worry regardless."

"I'm sure you will." That earned him a light slap to the shoulder. He smiled at her as they reached her quarters. He pulled her close and laid a quick kiss upon her lips. She smiled up at him, her eyelids drooping slightly from fatigue, "Pleasant dreams, Ash. I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

A light snow fell just outside the tall windows as Harry made his way through the Tower of the Hand. His footsteps echoed loudly off the high-vaulted ceiling. He carried a long, wooden case easily beneath his arm.

He reached Tywin's private audience where the captain of his guard, Ser Ilyn Payne, stood there vigilantly. Ilyn was a grim, thin man with no beard and a heavily pockmarked face. His gaunt face made his light grey eyes almost eerie. He was by no means pleasant to look at.

"Lord Tywin is expecting me." Harry told the stoic guard. Ilyn only grunted in acknowledgment and made a gesture toward the door.

Tywin sat behind his desk reading over a sheet of parchment, he glanced up lingering a moment on the case beneath his arm but made no further acknowledgement of his presence. A few short moments later, he placed his signature on the bottom of the parchment with a flourish and set it aside, gesturing for Harry to sit, "What did you wish to discuss?"

"It is well known that you have attempted purchasing, on more than one occasion, Valyrian steel swords from lesser lords around the realm in an attempt to replace the lost Brightroar, and that you have been rebuffed at every turn." Tywin's nostrils flared in irritation. _He likely isn't in the best of moods to begin with given Cersei can no longer wed Rhaegar, and that wasn't the most pleasant reminder._

"You are correctly informed," He replied tersely, "What of it?" Harry lifted the case onto his desk, careful not to disturb any of the prickly man's things. He opened the silver latch to reveal Brightroar sitting within.

Tywin's eyes widened slightly as he took in the golden lion head pommel, the ornamented crossguard, and tell-tale wavy grey metal of the Valyrian steel blade. His gaze shifted from the sword in front of him back to Harry. If he was pleased by what he saw, he did a fantastic job hiding it, "This is my family's sword, how did you come by it?"

"I acquired it while in Essos." Harry deliberately answered vaguely. The truth of where he found the sword wasn't entirely important.

Tywin watched him intently, expecting him to submit and elaborate, but Harry just waited patiently. Deciding it wasn't worth pressing him for any further information, Tywin stated confidently "I take it there is a price for its return."

"There is a price of sorts, my lord but I don't need nor require your gold." Hard to believe given he was a newly landed knight, "I don't even need recognition for its return."

"What is it you require then?" There were very few situations in which Tywin was unable to intimidate or pay somebody to do what he wished. _Ironically, most of those instances have likely been because of Valyrian steel._

"I want certain assurances in return for the blade." Tywin waited patiently for him to elaborate. Harry knew that what he said next could prove dangerous, "The story that most people know of my life is false. I am not a lowborn street urchin. I grew up with my parents, both of them healthy and whole. My name is Harrion Reyne, son of Reynard and Lily. And we hid ourselves largely out of fear of what you might do should you discover our survival. Or what others might do in the hopes of gaining your favor."

A flash of anger showed behind Tywin's green eyes, but it was quickly gone. In fact, he seemed surprisingly calm regarding the revelation, "Admittedly, I had some small suspicions regarding you though I could not fathom a way in which you could have survived. And I will not guess at how you managed to survive the flooding of Castamere now, nor do I particularly care. What is it you want from me in return for that sword?" He pointed down at the blade.

"I want your guarantee that you shall not seek further retribution against me nor anyone that I care for, whether by your own hand or any hand you command. Along with an agreement, in writing, that all debts owed to House Lannister by House Reyne are recognized as paid in full." Harry leaned forward, his hands resting on the table, "I have every intention of revealing my heritage in the future, and I would prefer not to have an enemy in you when that time comes."

"I would prefer that your family name remain dead, and that the only mention of it comes when minstrels sing the Rains of Castamere." Tywin replied stonily.

"People have sung the Rains of Castamere for over a decade now, Lord Tywin. Your vassals fear your reprisal and the revelation that a single Reyne remains alive will not change it." Harry argued evenly, "My uncle and aunt are dead fools, you dealt with them as you thought necessary. Before his passing, my father made his opinion of their actions quite clear."

"Reynard showed greater wisdom than his siblings." Tywin admitted with a hint of respect, "I nearly accepted his terms of surrender." Whether it was a lie or not, Harry didn't care. He made his decision and by the grace of his magic his family managed to survive.

"But you didn't, my lord. All that interests me is whether you will accept my terms now?"

"I could simply have you killed here in this room, and take the sword." It did not sound like a course of action he was seriously considering but he presented it all the same.

Harry looked unconvinced, "Only one guard is present outside your door, Lord Tywin. And while Ser Ilyn might be good, and you might have some skill of your own, I still like my odds. Of course should you succeed and I fail, you would be hard pressed to explain my untimely death to the numerous people who know of my presence here today." He smiled slightly, "But more importantly, you are far too pragmatic and subtle a man to attempt such a thing."

There was the slightest twitch near the corner of Tywin's lip at that. Silence fell between the two men, the only noise in the room the whipping wind outside the window. Tywin deliberated on his decision for a good time before he spoke again, "I accept your terms." _Apparently the prestige of owning a Valyrian steel sword and succeeding where his predecessors failed outweighs the blow to his pride the survival of my family might cause._

Harry was no fool. He knew that Tywin could renege on the agreement, "Shall we write out the agreement then." Between them they decided on the wording, but the end result was as they discussed along with repercussions should the agreement be broken. Three copies were written in total, signed and given the seal with both the lion and hand. Tywin held onto one while Harry took the other two. He did not inform Tywin what he intended to do with the third copy.

Harry offered a small bow to Tywin as he left, "A pleasure speaking to you, my lord."

"Ser Harry," Was Tywin's succinct farewell. As Harry made his way out of the tower of the hand, he was satisfied. Losing Brightroar meant very little to him, he would never use the blade and had Valyrian steel to spare. What he received in return didn't have any significant value, save perhaps the coin he would save without any debts that might be called due, particularly as he knew Tywin might renege given the right opportunity. _I doubt he'd act overtly against me, but men die of accidents all the time._

By approaching Tywin and informing him personally of his heritage, Harry avoided taking the man off guard, of potentially embarrassing him when the truth came to light. The best result was that this built some trust between the two of them. The worst would be that Tywin began plotting against him. But should he not have done this, he doubted there would have been any best case scenario. _Whether he chooses to leave me alone as agreed will remain to be seen._ _I shall have to ensure that no spies enter my service._

With that thought in mind he exited the Tower of the Hand.

* * *

AN: So there's the new chapter. I really didn't want to dwell on the restoration of his lands in significant detail, I've done a great deal of that sort of thing in TDOMCM. Sufficed to say, Harry has ensured that life there will be viable so water won't be an issue.

Just for those who wonder about the years, it is now 279 AC, two years before the Tourney at Harrenhal.

Until next time.


End file.
